Blood Moon Rising
by Helen Pattskyn
Summary: AU Strange events on the streets of Cardiff prompt Jack to call in the help of an old friend. For one member of the Torchwood team, things are going to hit a little too close to home for comfort. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Setting**: **AU.** After my story **Family Matters** and **Chapter 59** in **Short Stories**(post TW season 2 / DW season 4)… as usual, it is NOT necessary to be familiar with my other stories to follow this, as long as you don't mind taking it on faith that certain things are the way they are. I will try to give some back story along the way and as always if there are any questions, drop me a note and I'll be happy to respond.

**Rating**: M (or R) for mature themes, strong language and Jack and Ianto's sex life.

**Summery:**Strange events on the streets of Cardiff prompt Jack to call in the help of an old friend. And for one member of the Torchwood team, things are going to hit a little too close to home for comfort. AU.

**The usual disclaimers apply:**I don't own Torchwood or any of it's characters, or Henry and Vickie, either.

As usual, if you like what you see, please hit the button and review! (Or if you have suggestions, comments, etc., feel free to leave those, too ;-) Nothing makes a writes' day more than an email box of reviews.

* * *

**Chapter One: Bad Beginnings**

……………………………………………..

"Now what?" Mickey Smith asked when he and Ianto Jones rounded the corner to find themselves alone in a dead end alley. The alien had been just a few paces ahead of them and there was nowhere for it to have gone.

Mickey had been with Torchwood on this Earth for almost three months and in general felt confident in his ability as a field agent. However, there was something about running the midnight streets of Cardiff with the impeccably dressed Welshman who also happened to be his boss's husband that made him second guess himself when faced with impossible situations. The feeling was made worse by the fact that Ianto never seemed to break into sweat. Even after chasing a lanky grey skinned, four legged alien for ten or fifteen blocks on foot, Ianto didn't seem have much as a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his shirt.

Mickey was beginning to liken it to how all female comic book super heroes had an unspoken super-power, gravity defying breasts. Ianto Jones never broke into a sweat and at the end of the night, he would go back to the Hub and brew a perfect pot of coffee. And from what Mickey had heard (although would rather not have) the Welshman _still_ had energy left over for whatever 'advent garde' dabbling' he and Jack got up to in their spare time.

Ianto tapped the com in his ear. "We lost it."

Mickey heard the Captain's frustrated sigh on the other end as well.

"Anything on the monitor?" Jack asked Gwen, who was sitting in the backseat of the SUV.

"No. Ianto's right, it's gone."

"It had to have gone somewhere," Mickey spoke into his com piece.

"Probably up," Ianto nodded towards the buildings.

"What was that thing, Spiderman?" his companion asked.

Ianto just shrugged. After watching the alien sprint for twelve blocks, he wouldn't wall crawling past it. He had never seen a creature so uncannily agile before, either up close and personal or in any of the files he'd archived over the years. He tapped his com again. "Any idea what it was?" he asked Jack and Gwen on the other end.

"Negative," Jack snapped.

It was a well known fact that Jack didn't like unidentified aliens running around Cardiff. He liked them even less when they appeared to be mostly teeth and claws and moved as fast as the thing Mickey and Ianto had been chasing down. Additional demerits were awarded for fast, agile tooth and claw aliens who displayed any sort of intelligence, something the thing they'd been chasing seemed to do as well.

"Sweep the area," the Captain ordered. "If you don't pick up any trace of it in fifteen, head back in." He sounded edgy.

Mickey switched off his com and turned to Ianto, "Please tell me you two aren't having another fight."

Ianto gave him a dark look, but switched his com off as well. "Jack and I _don't_ fight."

"Every couple fights."

"We occasionally have disagreements. We don't fight."

"Yeah, whatever," Mickey scoffed. "I can't tell you how many fights me an' Rose used to have."

"I'd rather you _didn't_ tell me," the Welshman muttered back.

Mickey just grinned a sly grin that suggested he knew better; it infuriated the Welshman, but they both knew that's why Mickey did it. He holstered his pistol and pulled the handheld energy detector from the leather shoulder bag he wore to carry field gear.

"Anything?" Ianto asked him.

Mickey shook his head, "Not even a residual trace. It's like that thing was never even here," he shot a puzzled look at the Welshman who was walking around the alley way looking for visible sighs that the alien had been here. There were none.

Ianto holstered his weapon and started looking for a way to get onto the roof. There weren't any fire escape ladders, but there might be a window…

"What're you doing?"

"Trying to get in," he explained. After having been out on a few field assignments with Bobby, he was becoming more and more convinced that there was always an open window somewhere, all one had to do was find it. "Found it," he announced with a glib smile.

"Jack said sweep the area, not play ninja commando."

"Check around the other side of the building," Ianto instructed. "I'll check this out and meet you out front in ten."

Mickey gave him a look. "Splitting up is never a good idea, mate…" he cautioned.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "You've been watching horror movies again, haven't you?" he teased. Without waiting for an answer he reminded Mickey that Torchwood on _this_ world only employed six people and two of them had the night off. He hoisted himself up to the window and shimmied in. "Pass me a torch," he said, reaching his hand out the window.

Mickey handed it over telling Ianto to be careful, the last thing he wanted was for Jack to give him the sack for getting his partner killed in the field. "Besides, knowing you, the paperwork's a bitch," he joked.

"In triplicate," Ianto replied in a frighteningly serious tone before heading into the darkened building.

Reluctantly, Mickey circled around to the front of the building to see if he could spot any trace of the alien.

The industrial district street lacked the bright lights of the busy City Centre avenues Mickey preferred, but it was hardly what he would call desolate. Just the same, the longer he and Ianto were separated, the more uneasy he became…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you ! **Many thanks for the reviews / alert-listings so far. This type of story is one of the genres I work in when I'm doing original material, so I'm anxious to give it a go here and see how it's received.

…………………………………………………………..…

**Chapter Two: In the Dark**

……………………………………………..

Ianto crept through the darkened building slowly, torch in one hand, held at shoulder level, 9mm in the other. Of course that was assuming that anything he happened to run into in here would be susceptible to bullets. _With this job one can never really count on that,_ he reminded himself. Some days he wondered exactly how he had gone from drifting through odd part time jobs to _this_.

Still, feeling the ring on his finger, the pendant he always wore under his shirt, he had to admit that his life was much improved from the six months he'd spent sleeping on Wendy's couch.

Ianto swept the beam of the torch across the cement floor. There seemed to be little out of the ordinary in the large, high ceilinged room. Crates and boxes of various sizes were piled up everywhere, some covered by ratty looking tarps, some exposed.

The labels were from a plethora of companies… it looked like someone had just stuck a bunch of odds and ends into the building and forgotten about them. Taking the thick layer of dust into account, he didn't reckon anyone had used this place in a while. From the outside, the Welshman wouldn't have guessed that any of the buildings in the area were abandoned, (or at least disused.)

A noise made Ianto stopped dead in his tracks. He strained, listening. He would have sworn he had just heard the soft padding of footsteps on the floor above him. The gait didn't sound like it was their alien lanky friend, however.

He caught a flicker of light coming from a stairwell on the opposite wall, about fifty paces from where he was standing. It looked like someone was on the second floor and headed his way. Ianto flicked off his torch. He regretted the decision almost immediately as he couldn't see a thing in near-total darkness that surrounded him.

His com beeped softly, begging for attention. He flipped the channel open. "I'm sort of busy here…" he whispered.

"Where the Hell are you?" Mickey cut him off, sounding worried.

"Like I said, busy," Ianto ducked behind a stack of crates as the torch beams descended the stairs on the other side of the room.

"Ianto…"

"Not _now_," he hissed, turning the com completely off.

The footsteps stopped. He heard a male voice speaking in a harsh whisper, asking if anyone of his companions had heard anything.

Ianto held his breath and raised his gun.

"It's your imagination," another voice, female, said to them.

Ianto could make out three distinct torch beams, but that didn't mean there weren't more than three people in there with him.

Involuntarily, his memory flickered back to the year before last and the incident with the cannibals. A group of perfectly ordinary human psychopaths had nearly been the death of both he and Gwen. Ianto forced himself to breathe. He was armed. Chances were they were just a bunch of teenaged vandals. He could handle teenaged vandals.

He took another breath and tried to hear past the pounding of his heart in his ears.

The footsteps came closer… there appeared to be five or six of them, he thought, his eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the dark. _But definitely human… _or at least humanoid, because the old saying about how if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck it probably is a duck had stopped applying to his life the day he signed on with Torchwood.

He held his position as they group passed him by. They went towards the open window and made their exit. Ianto waited until he was sure they were gone and then counted to ten, just to be safe.

He turned on his com.

"…_**answer me!"**_ Jack's voice roared over the link.

"I'm here, I'm fine," he assured the older man in what he hoped was a calm tone of voice.

"What the Hell's going on out there?" Jack demanded. His tone was anything _but_ calm.

"I'll explain it when I come in," Ianto promised. He had the feeling he was going to be doing a lot more than explaining. Jack did a very good job of separating their personal life from their working relationship; the only time that line got blurred was when one of them did something stupid to scare the wits out of the other. Something like turning off his com unit, which in retrospect was probably pretty stupid, Ianto realized.

"Where are you?" Mickey wanted to know.

"First floor. Some kids just came through from the second floor. I'm going to check it out."

"Kids _aren't_ in your job description," Jack snapped.

If the older man were in a better mood, Ianto might correct him on that score. Tomorrow afternoon they were hosting a house full of kids, celebrating Jason's ninth birthday.

_One more thing to love about this job,_ Ianto mused. By day he was Mister Mom, by night he was chasing down aliens in warehouses and sewers. All things considered, he was fairly certain he preferred the aliens_._ "Give me ten minutes to check it out," he said into his com.

"Ianto…" Jack protested.

"I might as well, Jack. I'm already here. If it's nothing, we can phone it in to the police and go back to trying to find our alien."

Jack sighed heavily. "Fine. But keep your com _on _this time." He didn't sound happy. "Am I making myself clear on that?"

"Perfectly." If Jack weren't already angry with him, he might have tacked a 'sir' onto the end of that. "I won't be long," he said instead.

"You need backup?" Mickey asked through the link.

"I doubt it." Ianto made his way up the steps carefully. It was probably a matter for the police, not Torchwood, but he was there, he might as well check it out.

Besides, the alien _had_ vanished just outside this building and the window _had _been unlocked. It could be a coincidence, but why take chances?

He ascended the steps slowly, listening carefully, but there didn't seem to be anyone else here, human or otherwise.

The second story of the building seemed to be offices; he tried the doors until he came to one that was unlocked.

"Ianto?" Jack's worried voice came over the link.

"Still here," he said as he opened the door, shining the beam of his torch inside. He blinked briefly at what he saw there. "Jack. I think you'd better come have a look at this."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

Don't ask me where the bulk of this chapter came from… I (most thankfully) blame it on the Muses.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Life's Unexpected Turns**

……………………………………………

"Please tell me that that is _not _blood," Mickey had arrived on the scene first.

Ianto shrugged. He helped himself to the collection kit in the bag over Mickey's shoulder. He seemed to be a bit dazed by the scene before him. Ianto didn't necessarily blame him.

By the time Jack and Gwen joined them, Ianto had collected several samples of red viscous fluid from the walls and floor, being careful not to step in it.

"Oh…" the brunette Welshwoman put her hand to her mouth, backing quickly out of the room. "Oh _God_, what's that smell?" she was nearly doubled over.

The three men looked at her, clearly not smelling the same thing she was.

"Don't tell me you can't smell that! I'm sorry Jack…" Gwen took several more steps into the hall, looking like she was going to lose her dinner all over the floor.

Jack narrowed his eyes slightly in her direction, but when he spoke, his tone wasn't harsh. "Why don't you go back downstairs and get some air? We can handle this."

Gwen just nodded, still gagging. "I'm sorry…" she apologized again.

He shook his head telling her not to worry about it. "Keep your com _open_," the Captain shot his partner a dour look, "And stay on your toes."

"Yeah… yeah, all right," Gwen hurried back down the hall, holding one hand over her nose and mouth.

"She all right?" Mickey asked. "She's been a little green the last couple days."

"It's probably nothing," Jack brushed it off, turning his attention to the scene in front of him.

"There doesn't appear to be a body anywhere," said Ianto. "But that is definitely writing and _definitely_ blood," he shone his light directly on to the symbols that had been painted in blood on the walls. The letters weren't in English or any other script he was familiar with. Ianto shot Mickey an almost sympathetic look, knowing how much the other man hadn't wanted it to be blood, then turned to Jack. "Do you want to involve the police?"

"Let's find out what we're dealing with first. I don't want to hand it over to them just to take it back again. Ianto, I want to know who officially owns this place. But first, see if you can find anything that will give us any idea who was here. That might tell us what they were doing. Mickey, you help."

"Where're you going, then?" Mickey wanted to know.

"To check something out," Jack said over his shoulder as he headed back down the hall, leaving them without further explanation.

Mickey gave Ianto a questioning look; the Welshman just shrugged.

…………………………………………..

"Jack, I'm sorry," Gwen apologized again as soon as he joined her at the front door of the building. She could tell by his expression that he was a lot more angry than he'd let on in front of the others "Please just tell me you smelled that back there."

He inclined his head slightly, "Kind of a rotten meat smell?"

"Rotten eggs too."

"Sulphur," Jack corrected in a cool tone.

"I can't believe none of you was bothered by it…"

He gave her another one of those narrow-eyed glares. He'd known Gwen to stomach worse smells just fine. "Is there something you'd like to tell me, Ms. Cooper?"

A look of guilt clouded over her face. "I don't think this is the time for it," she said in a sheepish tone.

"You're right. The middle of a field op _isn't _the best time to discuss a leave of absence."

"Leave of absence?" she demanded. "I don't… "

"I'm going to put it on record as a suspension if you don't stop arguing with me," his tone remained cold.

"Could we please discuss this later, Jack?" Gwen pleaded.

"Fine. But this is your last field mission."

She stared at him, clearly stunned by the harshness of both his expression and tone. "You don't mean 'ever'. Do you?"

"We'll discuss it later."

"Jack…"

"Gwen, if I'd sent you out here instead of Ianto or Mickey…"

"I'm _**sorry. **_I thought I'd be all right."

He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a long, had look. "Well you were wrong. And if I'd sent _you_ out here in the condition you're in, instead of Mickey or Ianto, it could have cost somebody their life."

"You're right. I'm sorry. But … could… could we please… I would really rather keep this between us for now… ok?"

Jack gave a stiff nod. "Fine. I don't have to tell anybody why you're taking tomorrow… maybe even the next few days… off."

Gwen swallowed, fighting back the tears. Lately every little thing had made her cry. But this wasn't little.

"And Gwen… this is as much about you as it is about the rest of the team. Remember, we had a deal when I hired you," his tone had grown softer.

She almost laughed, "I lost my hold on a normal life two years ago and you know it. I just don't want to lose those last two years, Jack… I _love_ my job. I don't want to lose it."

"I wasn't thinking about doing anything that drastic."

Gwen nodded, sniffling a little more. "I just thought... I didn't know what to think."

Jack handed over a handkerchief from his pocket. "I take this wasn't planned?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head.

"Does Rhys know?"

She smiled, just a little. "No. I think he thinks I'm coming down with something. How did you figure it out?"

He flashed a sly smile, "I looked like you just did the whole nine months I was pregnant with Jason."

"You were really… I mean… that wasn't one of those things you say just to see if we're really listening?"

"_All_ of the things I say to see if you're really listening are true," he smirked.

"Oh God. You really are a sick man, Jack."

He chuckled, "You're only_ just_ figuring that out?"

………………………………………………….

"I wish you'd called me," Bobby said to Jack the next morning.

"It was midnight."

"So?"

The Captain sighed and leant against the counter in the medical bay. "Is it human or not?" he asked of the blood sample the blond Australian was checking out for him.

"Definitely human. I'll be able to tell you more in a few hours."

Jack nodded and headed for the stairs leading up to the main area of the Hub.

"Hey," Bobby called after him. "I thought you were taking today off."

Jack stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Something came up and Gwen had to call off," he kept his tone carefully neutral. "I'm just covering the morning. Ianto might kill me in my sleep if I leave him home alone today," he smirked.

Bobby chuckled, "Good thing for the rest of us he can do that as often as he likes and you'll keep coming back."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Invasions **

……………………………………………..

"Just because I am what I am doesn't automatically qualify me as some sort of occult expert, Jack," Wendy told him in an exasperated tone as they walked into the warehouse. "Although I _can_ tell you this place reeks."

"Yeah. I got that last night from Gwen."

She shot him a quizzical look.

Jack waved it aside. "Just tell me what you can."

Wendy heaved a sigh and headed up to the second floor. She didn't need him to tell her where to go, the stench was enough of a guide. She walked straight to the right office and opened the door. The scene was just as Jack had described it; it looked like something straight out of an old horror movie.

Reluctantly, she sniffed the air. "I don't think I could pick the people who did this out of a crowd. There are too many other smells… too many people were here," she shot him an apologetic look.

Jack gave her a tight smile in return, "Whatever you can tell me will help."

He leant up against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest, watching her prowl around the room. Despite her assertion that she wasn't any kind of expert, Wendy was the best of them it came to investigative field work and it was precisely because she was what she was. Her senses were at least four or five times sharper than any human's, even when she was wearing her 'human skin.'

"Something was burned here," she pointed to a dark patch on the floor that they'd missed last night in the dark.

She knelt down and examined some dark droplets on the floor in another spot. "Candle wax," she told him. "For what it's worth, I don't think anybody died here."

"That doesn't mean they didn't use the blood of somebody they'd killed somewhere else," he told her.

"No. It doesn't. But is this really our case? I mean… it's not alien..." she wasn't in the habit of contradicting Jack, but this didn't seem like the sort of thing Torchwood was supposed to investigate.

"Except that something we were chasing ran to that alley right outside this building and then vanished."

"You think it's connected?" she stood up and dusted her hands against her jeans.

"I stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago."

"What do you want me to do?"

He glanced at his watch. "Right now I want you to come with me to my son's birthday party and help me convince my husband not to kill me – I should have been home over an hour ago. Don't laugh," he added to her smile, "I left him alone with his family and five or six kids from Jason's class."

"Oh Jack. How could you?"

"Hey, he's the same man who fought Daleks with me," he told her defensively.

"Daleks are one thing…"

He sighed and led the way back to the SUV. "We can call the police on the way and let them know we've got this. I'll have Mickey follow up with the owners of the building and see if they know anything," but he suspected they didn't. After all, the owners wouldn't have had to use a window to get in and out last night…

…………………………………………………

The woman on Jack and Ianto's front porch smiled a bemused smile as Ianto Jones opened the front door, a look of pure relief on his face.

"Sarah Jane," he greeted her. "I can't tell you how glad I am it's you."

"I can tell. I hope we're not late."

"Your timing is_ perfect_."

"It can't be that bad, can it?" she asked as Ianto stepped aside so she and her son Luke could come in. The sounds of children shrieking could be heard from the next room.

Ianto rolled his eyes. So far it was just his family and two of Jason's classmates, however that meant eleven children in addition to Jason. Four more were expected at any moment and there was still no sign of Jack.

"Your place is lovely," Sarah Jane told him, glancing around the living room.

"Thank you. Here, let me take that for you," he offered as she pulled off her coat.

"This is for Jason," Luke held out the big wrapped box he'd carried up to the house from his mother's little green car. "I hope he likes it," he added a little awkwardly. "Mum thought he would."

"It's a telescope," she confided.

"I'm sure he'll love it. And thank you for coming. We're putting gifts by the fire place," he said to Luke. "I know London's a bit of a drive," Ianto added. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his family – some of them anyway. But there was something comforting about the presence of someone else who knew how to handle an alien invasion, because that's exactly what it was starting to feel like in the kitchen.

"We wouldn't have missed this for anything," Sarah Jane assured him.

Ianto had been up since six getting things ready for the party. He hadn't joined Jack in bed until two, because even though Jack told him it would hold until morning, he'd wanted to track down the ownership of that building they'd been in last night. He only wished they'd come up with some clues as to who had been there, but they hadn't left anything behind except the blood.

"Ianto?" Nerys came in from the kitchen. "Oh, hello. I didn't even hear the bell."

"How could you have?" he muttered. In a more congenial tone, he re-introduced his sister and Sarah Jane, reminding them that they'd met at the wedding.

"It's lovely to see you again," Sarah Jane held out her hand.

Nerys smiled and accepted it. "Nice to see you too… and Luke, wasn't it?" she asked of Sarah Jane's son. She didn't wait for an answer, however, before turning to her brother, "Yan, have you seen Tarra? She seems to have wandered off."

"This house is _not_ toddler proof…" Ianto panicked as he immediately started going through the mental list of all the things an unsupervised four year old could get into…

There was a sudden scream from upstairs. The only words that that could clearly make out were 'locked in' and 'loo.' The voice was definitely Tarra's.

"Let me," Sarah Jane said to Ianto. "I think I've got just the thing to unlock a door. Luke, see if you can lend a hand in the kitchen, will you?"

"Sure, Mum."

"Thank you," Ianto gave them both a grateful smile, silently vowing to strangle Jack in his sleep if he didn't show up soon.

He gave his mother an equally grateful smile when she pressed a cup of tea into his hands as he came back into the kitchen with Luke and Nerys.

"I don't know whose looking more under the weather today," Alice mused softly. "You or Dafydd," she nodded to her youngest, who was hiding in a corner playing a hand held video game. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.

Ianto chuckled, "I'm not even sure why you dragged him out here."

"Misery loves company," Nerys opined.

"Did you find Tarra?" Gavin joined them.

"Right here," Sarah Jane announced, carrying the teary-eyed toddler into the kitchen.

"Well that didn't take long," Nerys sounded impressed.

"Just had to get the door open," Sarah Jane told her with an easy smile.

"Let me guess, she locked herself in your bathroom too?" asked Gavin.

"I take it it's been a trend?" Ianto inquired.

"I had to take the door off its hinges the last time they were at our place. How'd you manage it?" he glanced Sarah Jane Smith. She hardly looked the handy-man type.

"Oh, I've learnt a few tricks for opening locks over the years."

"Hello…!" Jack's voice rang out from the living room.

"Thank God," Ianto muttered. "Excuse me while I go murder my husband."

………………………………………………………………

"Just sit, I've got this," Jack told his partner again, physically backing Ianto away from the kitchen sink.

All but two of Jason's school friends had gone home – they were staying the night and had retired with Jason up to his room to play, thankfully quietly.

The house, while finally peaceful again, looked as if it had been hit by a tornado… or perhaps a pack of rabid Weevils, Ianto wasn't sure. "Cariad," he protested Jack's resistance to him helping. There was no way Jack could get things cleaned up properly without his help.

Ella was taking care of the last of the mess in the living room; Wendy was making the coffee for the 'survivors'. "Sit," she told Ianto. "You've been doing nothing but run around all day."

Jack rolled up his sleeves. "You did a fantastic job, by the way," he said with an affectionate smile in the younger man's direction.

Ianto's mother had made the cake, but Ianto had done the rest, and it was no secret that cooking wasn't his forte. He'd managed to pull off food for the kids and adults and fend off a couple of uncomfortable questions from some of Jason's friends' parents, who were apparently unaware of the particulars of the Jones and Harkness household.

Ianto sank into a chair and regarded Jack a moment. As irritated as he'd been earlier, he couldn't be happier with him now. He knew Jack would rather get back to work and deal with the mess they'd found last night, but here was, dealing with this mess instead. "I love you."

"I love you too," the older man smiled over his shoulder as he went to work on the pile of dishes in the sink. "And thank you," Jack added softly. "I know the last couple of months haven't been easy on you."

"We're in this together, remember?"

………………………………………………………

Ianto wasn't particularly surprised to wake up in the middle of the night and find Jack not in bed with him.

What he _was_ surprised by was waking up in the middle of the night and finding Jack downstairs in his bathrobe, in the middle of a video conference with an extremely good looking young man wearing a red silk shirt…


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for the reviews so far! Yes, this one is much more centred around Torchwood and the work they do.

**A/N: **

As much fun as I had writing Jack and Henry's opening scene, I think my hip waders needed hip waders! Still, it was fun to watch them interact. (Henry, by the way, doesn't belong to me, I'm just borrowing him from the series that was inspired by Tanya Huff's "blood" books.)

* * *

**Chapter Five: Paris, 1922**

……………………………………………..

There were worse places Torchwood could have sent Captain Jack Harkness to investigate a series of odd occurrences.

_**Much**__ worse places,_ the Captain mused happily, sipping at his drink. He was aware of the smile that played at the corners of his mouth; he didn't care. He was away from Cardiff, away from Torchwood. For the first time since allowing himself to be dragged into the sadistic, xenophobic institute, he'd been given something that resembled a little freedom and he was determined to enjoy it.

He was sitting in a quiet, smoke-filled little bar just off the heart of one of the most beautiful cities on this miserable little planet. The bar was just out of the way enough not to be trendy, but not so much so that it he had more than a ten block walk back to rooms he'd rented.

Besides, the view was fantastic. The music wasn't bad, either.

He was being very careful not make the primary object of his observation aware of his interest, of course. Humans still had a few centuries to go before they crawled out of the sexual Dark Ages.

But that didn't mean a man couldn't look and the young man in question was well worth the risk. His face was nothing short of angelic; it was surrounded by a halo of dark auburn hair that cascaded in soft curls down to his shoulders. Not Jack's usual type, but irresistible none the less.

He was an artist, Jack had gleaned from local chatter, Henry something or another. In another hundred years, Jack might have gone over and asked if he could model for the kid. _Hell, if I can get another couple of drinks in me fast enough, I might do it anyway. _What was the worse the guy could do, kill him?

Jack downed his drink a little more quickly than he'd intended, but before he had the chance to signal the bartender, he appeared with a fresh glass. "Compliments of the gentleman," he said.

Jack blinked… somehow in the time it had taken him to finish his drink and look back up, the boy with the angelic face had crossed the distance between them and was standing at his elbow.

Jack flashed his best his best coy, come hither smile (his best was pretty darned good, if he did say so himself.) "Thank you," he said, raising the glass.

The boy smiled in return; he had a predatory gaze. It was dangerous. _He_ was dangerous. Damn, was that sexy. "You're welcome," he spoke French with a faint English accent.

"Care to join me?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he motioned back to his table, which a moment ago had been occupied by his little entourage, but was now completely empty.

"Don't mind if I do," Jack responded with a sly smirk. "Jack Harkness," he introduced himself.

"Henry Fitzroy," the young man all but purred out his name. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine," Jack said in a similar tone. He rather hoped that the pleasure would be very mutual very soon. He followed Henry Fitzroy back to his table and slid in next to him.

"What brings you to Paris, Mr. Harkness?"

Jack shrugged, "Pleasure," he lied. "You?"

"Much the same," he flashed a coy little smile of his own and allowed his hand to rest against Jack's thigh under the table. He seemed pleased when Jack met his gaze and gave just the tiniest of smiles to him in response to his touch. "May I pay you a compliment?" Henry queried.

"By all means, compliment away."

Henry chuckled. It was a rich sound. "You have the most extraordinary scent," he said. "What is that?"

"Personal secret." Jack reached under the table and laid his hand atop Henry's, bringing it higher up his leg, allowing the other man to feel the effect he was having on him.

"A mystery man," Henry smiled easily, tightening his grip. "I should warn you, Mr. Harkness, there's little I enjoy more than a good mystery," he said with a hint of challenge in his tone, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"I'm much better than just 'good', Mr. Fitzroy," Jack accepted the challenge and issued one of his own with a similar expression.

"Is that a fact?"

"Oh yes. It's a fact."

………………………………………………………………………

Mouths and bodies collided in a tangle of silk sheets in the young artist's loft. Jack couldn't remember the last time he'd been with a man like this… with _anyone _like this.

Henry's body was lean and toned and he knew how to use every muscle.

He wasn't afraid to tie Jack up or be tied up… he wasn't afraid to inflict a little pain. He knew just_ exactly_ where the line between pleasure and pain was and how to come just up to it, barely cross over, and then back away again, creating the most agonizing desire in a man…

For six months, Jack lost himself in the pleasure that Henry Fitzroy provided.

Little by little it seemed, Fitzroy lost himself in Jack as well, even going so far as dropping his other lovers. Or if he hadn't, Jack had no idea when he found the time for them.

It didn't take either of them long to realize it was more than just the sex. Henry was intelligent and well educated and opinionated, but remarkably enlightened for a twentieth century male. He and Jack often sat up all night, talking about everything and nothing.

Henry never pressed him with questions he couldn't answer. For his part, Jack returned the courtesy. All he knew was that Henry was from a wealthy family, that he was a bastard son, so his father didn't care what he did or with whom. All he cared about was that Henry was willing and able to sate his every desire and that the artist honestly welcomed his company no matter when he showed up (although he was an incurable night owl, so Jack never bothered him during the day. It was just as well, he was supposed to be in Paris on an assignment, after all.)

Once when he was sitting in on a session in which Henry had a trio of attractive nude models posing for him, he was startled as Henry put down his brush and walked over without a word. When Jack tried to speak, Henry put a finger to his lips, shushing him. He kissed Jack once, long and hard, and then went straight for what he really wanted, going down on him with skill and enthusiasm that far surpassed his apparent age.

After giving Jack the most incredible orgasm, he walked back to his canvas and continued painting as if nothing had happened. When he was done for the night, he invited the three girls to join them. It had been a _very_ good night.

……………………………………………………………

Jack rolled over, pulling Henry on top of him. He brushed the other man's hair back from his face and pulled him into another sweet kiss. "You are so incredible," he smiled. He meant it too. Henry was everything he'd ever wanted in a lover and to have found him here… he was perfect.

Henry smiled at him, that beautiful dangerous smile of his. "I could fall in love with you, you know."

Jack's chest tightened; he knew it must be showing on his face too, he could see in it in Henry's eyes. "I have to go."

"So soon? It's barely midnight."

"No. I mean I have to _go._ I have to leave Paris."

Henry slid off him and propped himself up on one elbow looking at the other man, "Is it because of what I just said?"

"No. God no," he pulled him into another sensual kiss, hoping to convey how much he didn't want to leave. "It's not you. It's work. They've called me back to England. I _have_ to go."

The younger looking man ran supple fingers though his lovers dark hair. "Do you want to go?"

"_No."_

Henry flashed a puckish grin, "So quit."

"It's not that simple…"

"Jack, I've _got_ money. I would take care of you. Of _us_."

"Us?" his tone was dubious.

"Why not?"

Jack smiled, just a little. "I wish I could, really I do. But… I… I don't have a choice. I have to go back."

"What do these people have over you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry. I made a few inquires… subtly, I promise you," he said to the sudden look of panic that crossed the other man's face. "I still have friends in England, Jack. I just wanted to know more about you."

"What did you find out?"

"Not much."

"Good," he pulled him close, kissing his forehead, silently cursing himself for letting himself get so carried away. So careless. "Henry, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but the less you know about my life the better."

At that he smiled a strange little smile that Jack didn't understand. "Usually that's my line," he said as if it explained everything.

"I'm serious. I'm leaving Paris first thing in the morning."

"Will I see you again?" Henry asked hopefully.

"I doubt it. But… I could love you too."

"You're a terrible liar," Henry teased him; Jack could see the hurt in his dark eyes.

The truth was that after burying Laura he didn't want to fall in love again, at least no time soon. He was waiting for the Doctor. That's all that mattered. Finding the Doctor, getting some answers. Escaping this horrible little planet.

Henry caught his hand as he got out of bed. "I meant what I said about loving you."

Jack leant in and kissed him long and hard. "If my life weren't what it is…" he began.

Henry laid a finger on his lips. "I understand," he said in a tone that made Jack believe he did. "Have a good life, Jack Harkness."

Jack gave him a smile he couldn't have understood. "I'll do my best."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you again for the lovely reviews and/or putting this on alert / fave lists! I really appreciate the reception that this has gotten so far and I hope it continues to be enjoyed.

I had only intended two chapters for backstory, but it appears that it's going to take up three... I don't know whether to blame the Muses or Henry and Jack for being too full of things to say and think to make this any shorter.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Serendipity (1943)**

……………………………………………

Living through the Second World War for a second time was one of the hardest things Jack Harkness had had to do, at least at that point in his life. (In retrospect he would realize that it hadn't been so difficult after all. But at the time he couldn't have any way of knowing the things he would be forced to live through.)

He wanted to go find himself and slap himself for treating his first time there like a joyride through time and space when all around him people were suffering and dying. He wanted to deck himself for being so damned cavalier.

He wanted to find the Doctor and demand answers that the Time Lord couldn't give him because he didn't have them. The things that had happened to Jack hadn't happened to him yet.

He wanted to steal his own stolen ship and leave this stupid planet.

He wanted to go _home_.

Some nights he would stare up at the stars and try to remember every little detail of the life he'd run away from, afraid he was going to forget who he really was.

Because he couldn't leave. He couldn't find himself and change history. He couldn't seek out the Doctor, the Doctor hadn't met him yet.

The only thing he could do was endure, get through the War, hope that someday soon he'd find the right Doctor. His Doctor. The one who could fix him.

He trudged up to the door of the little pub and pushed it open, noting that about half the people inside stopped laughing and drinking just long enough to see who had darkened their door. But they all knew him here.

He exchanged a few good natured greetings with the rough, scraggly faced men as he tromped up to the bar.

One thing Jack was good at was blending in, creating and maintaining a cover. The Allies used that ability frequently, never questioning how he got in and out of some of the situations he'd come through alive. _If they only knew,_ he thought with a private smile.

He ordered a pint, his French so perfect that no one ever would have guessed he wasn't a native.

He'd died six times in the last month collecting or delivering information from Allied spies in Eastern Europe.

But anything was better than Torchwood.

_Even a dismal little backwoods town like this,_ he thought as he drank the bad, watered down beer. Or at least he presumed it was intended to be beer; it tasted more like piss water. He desperately hoped the guy he was supposed to meet tonight would show up before he had to order a second round.

_Either that or I'll get lucky and someone will poison my drink. _

Jack leant back to wait, surreptitiously eavesdropping in on the local gossip.

…………………………………………………………………

He slipped into town unnoticed, blending in seamlessly with the shadows and the darkness, the 'creature of the night' literature erroneously painted his kind to be.

He didn't know the name of the man he was supposed to meet. The man wouldn't know his name, either. He wasn't even sure the man would know what he looked like and the description he'd been given of his contact was vague at best. It made him uncomfortable.

Six foot or so tall, dark hair, blue eyes. Clean shaven. Some American Captain, not that an American soldier would be walking around occupied France in uniform.

He didn't like not knowing who he was supposed to meet. He had more to lose than most. But loyalty to England and her allies made him take risks he ordinarily would have avoided.

As soon as he walked into the pub, a single scent hit him, sending him reeling. It filled him with the intense longing and under any other circumstance he would have been overjoyed smell that familiar warm, spicy, slightly musky scent… the scent of a former lover, a man he would have cared for the rest of his life. A man he hadn't seen in at least two decades.

And while it _was_ possible Jack was still alive, probably still beautiful – although he'd loved him for so much more than just his body – this wasn't the time or place for a reunion, no matter how much Henry wanted to seek him out…

And then he saw him. Was seen _by_ him.

He realized by the startled look in those amazing blue eyes that the man sitting at the bar was having much the same thoughts he was…

Jack Harkness hadn't aged a day in twenty years.

Were he mortal, Henry might have been able to convince himself that there were wrinkles on Jack's face, but they were being hidden by the shadows in the dimly lit pub, that there were grey hairs he couldn't see in the dark. He might have been able to convince himself that Jack had kept himself in good health, maintained a youthful appearance.

But he wasn't mortal. There were no wrinkles, no grey hairs. Jack looked _exactly_ the way he had looked the night they said goodbye. If Henry Fitzroy had had blood in his veins it would have run cold.

His nose told him that this _was_ Jack – _his _Jack. Not Jack's son or his nephew or any other relation, because there were many, _many_ things he would never forget about the man he'd loved twenty years ago and one of them was that incredible, unique scent.

Jack stood as he approached, caution playing in his eyes and on his face.

Henry strained to isolate the sound of the other man's heartbeat in the crowded room. He had one. He was breathing. As far as Henry could tell he was just as human as he'd been twenty years ago… but deals made with Devils didn't always leave their mark in ways that he could see or hear or smell.

_Did I really misjudge your character?_ He wondered in Jack's direction. He would never have expected the other man to become involved in the kind of darkness he had to be involved with to have so perfectly retained his youth.

Then again twenty years was a long time and war did strange things to people, even a man Henry had once trusted enough to be willing to share his secrets with.

A new kind of hurt filled him as he looked up into those beautiful blue eyes again. To lose Jack to time was inevitable, it was bearable, the natural order of things. But to lose him like this was enough to break his heart.

"Captain?" he asked quietly, his tone very carefully neutral, his expression betraying nothing.

Jack nodded. His expression was as carefully schooled as Henry's. Only his eyes betrayed the jumble of emotions. It _was_ possible this was Henry's son, but those eyes… how many times had he looked into those soft beautiful eyes when they'd made love? He would know those eyes anywhere; he just hadn't expected to see them on the face of a man who didn't seem to have aged a day in twenty years. "Do you have something for me?" he asked.

Henry almost laughed; there had been a time when a line like that would have meant so much more… _deals with the Devil,_ he reminded himself. There was no room in his life for anyone who dealt in black magic.

He forced his grin into a tight smile and slid the paper across the bar, under his hand.

If his heart were still beating, he knew it would have skipped a beat or two when Jack laid his hand atop his own… he was _so_ warm… _Dear God, why him?_ Would any explanation be good enough?

"I think we need to talk," Jack said softly, letting his fingers curl over top of Henry's hand a moment. It was a ghost of a caress brought on by the memory of six of the best months he'd had on this miserable little planet.

Henry could no longer look at him, it hurt too much. "Not here."

The Captain nodded. Definitely not here.

Henry pulled away and started to turn, but the sound of his name on Jack's lips drew him back to the other man.

"Can I trust you?" Jack asked, a sharp look playing in his sapphire eyes.

"With that – yes," his tone was cold. "With anything else, _don't_ count on it."

"Fair enough. How can find you?"

"I'll find you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Jack and Henry**

………………………………………………

The hilltop where the old monastery had been built overlooked the village below. The view up was considerably more impressive, though. It was a crisp, clear moonless night and both Jupiter and Mars were visible near the horizon.

Jack leant against an old stone fence that separated the long abandoned monastery from the rest of the world. He'd been there for almost an hour, trying to figure out what he was going to say when Henry finally showed up. He still didn't know.

Three days had passed, enough time for him to convince himself that the other man had left town for good.

But Jack still waited. He didn't know why. Except that there was just the slimmest of chances that he wasn't alone in the Universe and if the one other person like him was Henry Fitzroy, that was something worth waiting for.

Then this morning when he'd woken up and found the note under his door. The message had been succinct, nothing like the notes he was used to getting from the young (or not so young) artist.

"It was never like you to keep me waiting," Jack said in a glib tone, without bothering to turn around when he heard the sound of soft footfalls in the snow.

Henry slipped up next to him, but not too close.

"Nice spot you picked," Jack remarked. "Love the view," he glanced towards the sky.

Henry smiled, remembering the long nights they'd stayed up watching the Heavens. At the time he'd thought it romantic. "What happened to you?" he asked without looking the man next to him.

Jack flashed a characteristic smirk in his direction. "Good question."

"I'm serious Jack." He was no longer trying to conceal how much this hurt.

"So am I."

Henry scrutinized him. He could force the answer, but he didn't want to. He wanted Jack to tell him the truth on his own. He wanted the other man to convince him that he hadn't known what he was doing, that he'd been tricked, deceived…not that ignorance was an excuse. But ignorance was something and Henry was desperate to find anything, any reason at all, to forgive him for whatever deals he'd made with demons or Devils. He'd spent the last three days trying to come up with some other answer, some other explanation – anything.

Only there wasn't another answer. There was no other way to explain why Jack Harkness was here, alive, and not looking any older than he had twenty one years ago.

"I can't die," Jack said at last. He had no idea what Henry was searching for when he looked at him like that, but for his part, he was tired of lying. He was tired of pretending that he didn't hurt all the time, tired of going on day by day as if anything he did here really mattered. He was tired of living.

Henry hoisted himself up to sit on the wall, facing the other man. "What do you mean, you can't die?" he asked slowly.

"I mean I _**can't **__die."_ Jack pulled his pistol from its holster, ignoring the look of apprehension on the other man's face. He shoved the weapon at Henry. "Here. Take it. Go ahead. _Shoot_ me. Give me five minutes. I'll be back." His tone was full of hurt. Anger. Eighty years worth of bitterness. Eighty years worth of questions nobody could answer.

"I've been shot, stabbed, starved, poisoned, drowned… " he looked up at the sky. Daleks. He had been exterminated by a _Dalek_ and he had come back. "I was killed by something you can't even begin to imagine, Henry. Something so… horrible. So inhuman," his voice was ragged. "You people, living safe and secure on this miserable little planet, content in your ignorance. You think you're so smart," he ignored the tears running down his cheeks. "You have _no idea_ what's really up there." Daleks. Cybermen. Zygons. Judoon. A hundred alien species waiting to attack. Destroy. It was only a matter of time before they discovered Earth.

"Take it. Shoot me," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "Give me five minutes where it doesn't hurt."

Henry put both his hands around Jack's and eased the gun away from him. He set it down gingerly, shaken by the onslaught of raw emotion. "Even if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need that." His tone, however, remained cool, detached. Nothing of what Jack had said made any sense, he just knew that the other man believed his own words.

Jack studied him for several long moments. He didn't pull away when Henry reached out with cold hands and gently wiped the moisture from his face. The tenderness of the gesture was at odds with his body language, his expression – with the chill in his voice.

"What are you?" Jack asked him at last.

"My name is Henry Fitzroy."

Jack nodded. That hadn't answered the question.

"My name is Henry_**Fitzroy**_, Jack," he repeated. "Son of the King."

"What does that mean?"

"I was named after my father. My mother was Elizabeth Blount. I was born on the fifteenth of June in 1519, in the village of Blackmore, in England. I was named Earl of Nottingham, Duke of Richmond and Somerset and if I hadn't chosen love over duty, I would have been my father's successor to the throne. I was seventeen," he added bitterly, looking off into the darkness. "I didn't realize what I was doing, that once she turned me, we could never be together."

Jack blinked, silent, not understanding.

Several long moments later, Henry reached for his hand; Jack let him take it. Henry placed it on his chest, over his heart. Only there was nothing there. No steady rhythm, just stillness.

Jack frowned. He moved his hand to Henry's neck, but there was still no pulse there either, no sign of breath. No sign of life.

"I was going to tell you," Henry confessed in a soft tone. "That last night we were together in Paris. I meant what I said about loving you, about wanting to take care of you," he met Jack's gaze, needing him to understand. Needing him not to be afraid, not to be reviled. "Even when you were too old to be interested in… in the physical aspects of our relationship, I wouldn't have abandoned you." He reached out and touched the other man's face again with cool, pale hands, immeasurably relieved when Jack didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Henry could see the confusion in his eyes, but he didn't see the things he feared. "I would have taken care of you for the rest of your life."

"Henry, I'm one hundred and ten years old and I may _never _die," Jack told him as simply as he knew how.

"Tell me how that's possible."

"I wish I could, but I don't know."

"So tell me what happened. _Please_."

"I died. I came back. Since then…" he ended in a shrug.

"When did this happen to you?"

"Are you sure you really want to know? Because let me tell you, I'm not in a mood to lie tonight."

"Then don't lie. Tell me everything," Henry coaxed gently, caressed his cheek.

Jack closed his eyes for a long moment before answering. "It was… or will be… the 2002nd century," he said, holding his breath, waiting for disbelief to settle in. Or worse, for Henry to think he was mad.

It was Henry's turn to be startled. "The year…"

Jack shook his head. "Not the _year_ 2002. The 2002nd _century_. That would be the year 200,200 something. Which was pretty far out of my territory," he admitted with a small smile. "I was born in the late 51st century. Will be born." He shrugged his shoulders. "It gets a little hard to tell a good story when you have to keep stopping to decide whether you should use past tense or future tense."

"That's impossible."

"This coming from a man without a heartbeat?"

Henry laughed. "All right. I'm willing to entertain that… that you're from… the future?" He still turned it into a question.

Jack nodded. "But I'm stuck here."

"Is here really such a bad place?" he leant forward, slowly, giving Jack plenty of opportunity to shy away. He didn't. Henry wasn't sure he believed the other man's story, but he didn't want to believe anything else.

Jack met the kiss half way, cupping the other man's face in both hands, drawing him in. It felt _so_ good…

Henry eased himself off the fence and Jack drew him into his arms and held him like he had so many times before. He seemed so unafraid…

"May I?" Henry asked softly in between sensual kisses to Jack's lips… his neck.

"What do you mean?"

"Jack… I told you…" the confusion in the other man's eyes told him he still didn't fully understand. "I never asked before because you didn't know, but now you do. So now I'm asking. I won't hurt you," he added as the uncertainty in the other's face grew.

"I hope_ that's_ a lie," Jack teased; Henry smiled in return. Jack leant forward giving his lips another soft kiss. "I trust you with my secrets," he said. "And I trust you with whatever it is you're asking me for."

"You know what I'm asking."

He nodded. "Yeah. I think I do." He wasn't sure he believed it… but he'd seen so many other fantastic things in his life… "Go ahead," Jack told him. "Take… take whatever you want."

Henry pulled him into another soft kiss before gently moving his mouth to Jack's neck. He kissed and caressed him there softly, holding back until Jack got caught up in the moment.

"Damn…" he murmured as the sensation filled him… he suddenly realized that this was what Henry had been doing all those times… "Don't stop," he begged when he felt Henry pulling away.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You can't kill me, Henry," he pulled him into another greedy kiss. "You can't hurt me."

"But I could hurt myself," he pulled away.

The statement was like a slap in the face, one Jack knew he should be giving himself. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Gently he brushed the back of his hand across the other man's cheek. "I understand your pain, Jack. I know what loneliness feels like. I know what it's like to watch the people you care about grow old and die. We wouldn't have to do that with each other." Henry drew him close, "I meant what I said in Paris. I could love you. I was falling in love with you then. I would take care of you. Of us. Whoever it is you work for…"

"They would lock you up and dissect you."

"Literature hasn't gotten everything wrong. I'm more than capable of defending myself." He pulled Jack into a soft, sweet kiss. "And I would trust you to watch over me when I'm vulnerable. I would trust you to be there when I sleep."

Jack realized the implication… assuming at least most of the folklore was true. It was tempting, the prospect of not being lonely any more, not being alone. Of having someone who could satisfy him in _every_ way... Someone he wouldn't have to watch die. Someone he could love without having to leave. Someone who knew his secrets. _Someone who trusts me…_

But the risk was too great and he knew it. "Torchwood exists to destroy alien threats. Even if you're not an alien, they would destroy you."

"So this is it, we just go our separate ways again?"

Jack closed his eyes, fighting back a fresh rush of tears. "I'm waiting for someone. Someone who can tell me what happened to me. Maybe… maybe after I find him… maybe… someday."

"Then I'll wait for someday."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**

**Thank you!** For the reviews / alert/fave listing on this. We're back to the present…

On a personal note, I'll be heading out of town next week and have a ton of stuff to get done, so updates this week may be a little slow (for me) and will be non-existent next week. _**Please **_think happy thoughts my way…. I let my sister to talk me into going to her in-law's cabin w/ her for a girls' week… then she mentioned that there was no electricity (and I stopped writing long hand about 10 years ago.)

* * *

**Chapter Eight: The Middle of the Night (Cardiff, present day)**

………………………………………………

Ianto wasn't sure what woke him up, but when he rolled over and found the other half of the bed empty, he wasn't particularly surprised. Jack had crawled in with him a few hours ago, but he hadn't really seemed tired.

After ten minutes of shifting himself around, unable to find a comfortable position no matter how hard he tried, Ianto rolled back over and got out of bed. _Just for a little while_, he promised himself.

He'd just check in on Jason and his friends and then go downstairs, have a glass of warm milk, chat with Jack a bit and come back up to bed. Maybe he could persuade his Captain to join him because there were things _far_ superior to warm milk for helping one sleep…

With a happy little smile playing across his lips, Ianto pulled on his fluffy terrycloth bathrobe and tiptoed down the hall.

Jason and his friends were fast asleep in Jason's room; from the looks of things one of them had dozed off reading a comic book. Ianto crept into the room and pulled the comic gently away from the sleeping boy's hands and turned of the torch he'd apparently been reading by. He could remember doing that a time or two at their age.

Ianto tiptoed out of the room just as quietly as he'd come in, closing the door behind him. A quick glance down the hall told him that everything was in order – not that he expected to find anything wrong. But after living at the Hub for a few months, the Welshman had taken to checking his surroundings to make sure nothing was a miss. _No Weevils prowling around here, though,_ he smiled to himself.

Satisfied that everything was in order upstairs, Ianto headed downstairs to find Jack.

He was surprised to hear the sound of laughter coming from the little room off the dining nook. He recognized Jack's voice at once. But the other was… _male?_ He listened a moment; he couldn't make out any of the conversation, just the occasional loud peal of laughter, but he was entirely certain that the other man was neither Mickey nor Bobby.

Had it been either of them, Ianto wouldn't have thought anything of it, but what in the world was Jack doing with some strange man in the house at midnight when they had a couple of Jason's friends staying over? _(Hell, what was he doing with some strange man in the house at midnight…?)_

As soon as he got into the kitchen, the Welshman realized that Jack didn't have company; he was video conferencing with someone on his laptop. It _wasn't _someone Ianto knew.

He was young, definitely not more than twenty years old. He was handsome. Or maybe beautiful. Somewhere between handsome and beautiful, perhaps, encompassing the best possible traits of both adjectives, Ianto thought, with a dash of sensual thrown in for good measure.

The top couple of buttons of his red silk shirt were undone, revealing a bare chest and thick gold necklace. He was laughing at something Jack had just said. His laugh was rich and warm and Ianto wasn't sure if he was hearing things or if the man had just called Jack 'mon amour'.

Ianto didn't need more than the semester of French he'd failed to know that 'mon amour' meant 'my love.'

Jack's back was to the door, so he didn't realize he was being observed from behind. Apparently, Ianto thought, he was so engrossed in his conversation he hadn't heard his partner come down the stair any more than he noticed him standing there watching.

_And_ Jack was wearing nothing but his bathrobe. So this _wasn't_ a professional call… not that he would have been able to convince the Welshman otherwise, even if he_ were_ fully clothed.

Ianto flipped on the kitchen light.

Startled, Jack turned around to see who was there; his expression turned distinctly guilty looking when he realized who it was. He cleared his throat, something Ianto knew he only did when he'd been caught in a compromising situation and turned back to his 'friend' on the other end of the video conference. "Hang on a sec, I'll be right back."

The camera wasn't positioned in such a way that the man could see much beyond Jack's face.

The Captain stood up and strode into the kitchen; he stood facing Ianto a moment before reaching out to run his hands down the other man's arms. "What are you doing up?" he asked in a soft voice as he took Ianto's hands into his own.

_**Definitely**__ guilty,_ the Welshman thought. He shrugged, not quite meeting Jack's gaze. They didn't actually have a specifically exclusive relationship, but there was something about finding Jack in the middle of… something… in the middle of the night in his own _home_ that bothered the younger man. "I couldn't sleep, I guess." Maybe it was time to lay down a few ground rules for when Jack decided he needed a little extramarital whatever.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

Ianto shrugged again. He didn't really mind that Jack needed a little extramarital whatever, he just didn't want it going on in his house. His _home_. "Sorry if I interrupted something," he forced a tight lipped smile.

Jack knew that look. "Come here, there's somebody I want you to meet."

"I hardly feel up to meeting anybody in the middle of the night, Jack," he informed the older man curtly. "I'm just going to warm up some milk and I'll leave you to… to _whatever _you two were doing."

"Please? For me?"

Ianto couldn't_ believe_ Jack was giving him puppy-dog eyes. Men with blue eyes shouldn't be able to do that. It was completely unfair.

Jack grinned when he realized his tactic, juvenile though it was, was working. "Come here and say hello," he coaxed, tugging at his partner's hands until he'd dragged him into the other room and parked him on the setae.

"Hello," said the man on the screen, wearing a lascivious little smile.

"Erm…" was all Ianto could get out.

"This is Ianto," Jack introduced from off-camera.

"I'd guessed as much," said the other man. "Unless of course you've got some other handsome guy living with you that you haven't told me about," he teased. "If that's the case you're going to have to do a whole lot less arm-twisting to get me to come and visit you."

Jack laughed.

Ianto found the whole thing infuriating; it made him feel like he was livestock on parade.

Jack slid in behind him, then, wrapping his arms around his partner's waist and laying his head on his shoulder so they were both on camera.

"Awww…. How cute," the man on the other end grinned.

Ianto realized the man had an American accent, but it wasn't like Jack's. Of course Jack's accent wasn't really American. "If you two will excuse me…" the Welshman tried to wriggle away, but Jack wouldn't let him. When it came to sheer strength, Jack had the advantage.

"Hold on, you haven't even been introduced yet. Ianto, I'd like you to meet Henry Fitzroy. Henry, Ianto."

Ianto balked. _This_ was Henry Fitzroy? "The artist?" he was just a kid!

"That's me," he grinned appreciatively at being recognized.

"So…" the Captain began in a more serious tone. "What do you say to coming over for a visit?"

"You _know_ how difficult it is for me to travel, Jack."

"I can help you make arrangements…"

"It's not just that. There's the issue of territory."

"Even for a few days?"

Henry gave him a look; Ianto recognized it immediately. It was the one he felt on his own face when he realized he was caving into one of Jack's requests.

"Email those photos to the address I gave you," Henry told him. "I'll have a friend look at them during the day and I'll get back to you tomorrow night. If you really need me… you know I could never refuse you anything, Jack," he said with a warm smile. "Mr. Jones, nice to have met you, albeit electronically," he flashed a glib grin.

"Likewise," Ianto managed to choke out.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **

I've discovered the "polls" feature… if you feel like it take a minute and visit my profile to register your opinion on two questions about my Torchwood-verse. Thanks! (The first question doesn't apply to this fic, but just something I've been tossing around for a while. The second one is the direct result of something someone asked for. Mostly it was just me having fun w/ the polls ;-) Thanks again!

Thank you again for the reviews! I'm hoping to get a few more chapters before I take off into the great outdoors...

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Life and Marriage are a Balancing Act**

……………………………………………………………………

"Exactly how long have you known him?" Ianto inquired, annoyed with himself for sounding like a jealous teenager. He and Jack _didn't_ have a specifically exclusive relationship. Jack could do whatever with whomever… and Henry Fitzroy lived in Toronto, so it wasn't like they were doing much.

Jack didn't answer right away.

"_What?"_ he snapped when he realized Jack was grinning at him. "Is something funny back there?" he turned his head a little more, trying to get a better look at Jack from his position in front of him on the setae.

"Nope," Jack's grin was audible as well as visible. It played at the corners of his lips and sparkled in his eyes. Nobody had the right to look that good when they were laughing at someone.

This was getting nowhere. He pulled away. "I'm going to go and get that milk now."

"I can think of better ways to help you sleep."

"Milk's fine. Thanks."

"Ianto…!" Jack followed him into the kitchen. He leant against the counter while the younger man jerked the fridge open.

The Welshman pushed several things violently out of his way to get to the back where the milk had gotten shoved earlier during the post-party clean up.

"Why are you so upset?"

"I'm _not_ upset," he snarled in response. Ianto slammed the milk down on the counter. The cupboard where they kept the glasses was behind Jack's head. Jack it seemed was determined not to move. "Do you mind?" the younger man finally asked, glancing significantly at the cupboard any idiot would know he needed to get into, at least so long as that idiot lived there.

"Sweetheart…"

That one word stopped him. It was as unfair as Jack using puppy dog eyes on him. "I'm not upset," he said less venomously. "But I _would _like a glass, please. _If_ you don't mind."

Jack turned around and got one down for him. He held it firmly against his chest. "You can have it after you tell me what's wrong," he taunted.

"Has anybody ever told you what a child you can be?"

"Yes. You." He grinned, continuing to hold onto the glass.

"Jack, _please._ I just want to get some warm milk and go back to bed…"

The phone rang. They both frowned.

Ianto got to it first. "Hello?" He answered simply. There weren't many people who would be calling at that hour.

"Ianto, hi," it was Gwen. "Look… there's been a thing."

He mouthed Gwen's name to Jack, wondering exactly what was making the Captain scowl quite so hard. "What sort of thing?" he asked into the receiver.

Jack's scowl deepened.

"I got a call from the police," Gwen told him. She sounded unusually unsettled. "There's been another... incident. Liket he one from the other night. This time there's a body."

"Do you want to meet us there?"

"No… I don't think so."

It was Ianto's turn to frown. He didn't press the issue, however; Gwen gave him the address and he thanked her without asking what was going on.

He hung up and relayed the information to Jack. "So much for a glass of warm milk," he added, muttering as he shoved the milk back into the fridge.

Jack came up behind him before he could turn around and wrapped his arms snugly around the younger man's waist. "Why don't you go back to bed?" he suggested in a soft tone. "I should call Bobby in to check out the body anyway... there's no need for all three of us to be running around Cardiff in the middle of the night…"

Ianto yanked Jack's hands away from his body and spun around, glaring. "Don't you _dare _start shutting me out, Jack!"

"I only meant…" the other man was gobsmacked by his partner's sudden anger.

"You have two choices. Either we carry on the way always have where work is concerned or you sack me here and now, but I will _not_ be shut out."

"Ianto…" but the other man's tone and expression brooked neither argument nor rational explanation. "Fine," he snapped. "I honestly... never mind." Jack wrote a quick note for his mother and left it on the fridge, hoping they'd be back before anyone got up to read it anyway.

They went upstairs and dressed in silence, Jack into one of his usual outfits and Ianto, much to his surprise, into jeans and a t-shirt.

"It's the middle of the night, Jack. I should_ think_ that a suit and tie would be optional," he said to the look the older man was giving him. His tone remained tepid.

"If you want to talk about Henry…"

Ianto waved the idea aside, "I hardly think this it the time to discuss your personal life." He retrieved both their guns from the locked safe in the wardrobe.

"Is it safe to let you handle a gun tonight?" Jack inquired, trying to make a joke of the situation.

"Seeing as we may need you in the field, you can count on me not to shoot you anytime soon," was his partner's entirely too serious sounding response.

"Henry and I really are just friends…"

"Later, Jack," he warned. "I don't need to be walking around with something like you and… him… on my mind when I'm supposed to be working."

Jack gathered the resistant young man into his arms. "Just give me a minute here. Please?"

"We don't have time…"

"The body they found isn't getting any deader."

Something about Jack's tone made him stop fighting quite so hard. "Fine." He said in the mildest tone he could muster. "What do you have to say that can't wait for a few more hours?"

Jack took a deep breath and let it out, giving himself a moment to mull over his thoughts and sort them out. He realized he probably needed more than a few seconds to figure out how to say what he wanted to say, but a few seconds were all he had. "We're going out there not knowing what could happen. I… I don't ever want to… if anything were to happen to you, this isn't the way I want to remember us," he told the younger man honestly.

Overwhelmed by Jack's tone and the look in his eyes, Ianto pressed his lips to his partner's mouth. "I do love you, you know. And you're not getting rid of me this easily, by the way. I have no intention of dying on you tonight."

Jack smiled, "You'd better not."

……………………………………………………………………

"Bobby, you're with me. Ianto, you and Wendy go check out the parameter," Jack said as they got out of the SUV.

He hadn't commented when both Bobby and Wendy slid into the backseat fifteen minutes ago, despite the fact that he'd only called the medic into work.

"Isn't that your friend, Sergeant Lewis?" Ianto smirked at Jack when he recognized officer heading their way. Thankfully, there were only a couple of police cars parked outside the old warehouse and, much like the first scene, the area was not only dimly lit, but fairly isolated. It was doubtful that there would be any passersby, especially at that hour of the night.

Jack glowered at Ianto for his observation, causing the younger man to snicker. 'Friend' was a rather loose term. Unfortunately, as team leader, it usually fell to him to take on the unpleasant task of dealing with the locals…

"You're incorrigible, Yan," Wendy whispered to him, as they slipped around to the other side of the building to have a look around.

"Yup," he grinned in return.

It was darker around the back; the only illumination came from a single light on a tall pole at the far end industrial yard.

It appeared to be some sort of lumber or construction yard; there were pre-fab storage units stacked up in tall, narrow 'blocks' as well as a few permanent buildings like the one where the body had been found. On the way in, Ianto had noted a number of gaps in the tall barbed wire fence that surround the entire yard.

Wendy's hand on his arm stopped the Welshman in his tracks. He gave her an inquisitive look.

"We're not alone out here."

"Human?" He asked, slipping his 9mm out of its holster.

"Mostly."

Ianto shot her a puzzled look. "What do you mean, mostly?"

"It's the only way I can describe it," she replied, reaching for her gun as well. It wasn't her first choice, but there were too many police linger around for her to shift shape. "I can smell it, but I can't pinpoint it… it's like it's everywhere and nowhere."

He nodded; sometimes answers like that were the best she could give. They split up to cover more ground.

Ianto was half way down a narrow path between two stacks of pre-fab storage units when he saw the figure crouching down in the shadows…


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **

Polls are still open; I added a new candidate that I thought of this morning (don't ask me why she didn't cross my brain before now, it's even been done before.) Thanks again for voting. I must admit, I'm having a bit of fun with this. (My husband will be pleased by Abby's lead… )

The "question" of Jack and Ianto's exclusivity will be answered in chapter (good point, by the way); Jack's perception of it happens to coincide with mine. I was writing pretty deep in the Welshman's cranium for that bit in the last chapter, however and he still has moments of doubt and insecurity because he knows what Jack is like and he went into the marriage w/ open eyes.

I hope to get in just a few more chapters before heading out of town.

Thanks again for the reviews! I really, really appreciate them.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Complications of an Unexpected Nature**

…………………………………………

"What's that?" Vicki Nelson leant over the desk in the outer office to see what her assistant, Coreen Fennel, was so studiously working on first thing in the morning. Coreen wasn't usually even_ in_ at this hour.

"Something some guy sent me," she answered without looking up at her boss. "Henry asked me check it out."

"And is Henry paying your salary, now?" came an acerbic reply that hid the way Vicki's lips twitched upwards in a wry little smile. It was no secret that Coreen was smitten with the four hundred and fifty year old vampire.

Coreen cleared her throat self consciously, closing up the book. "Sorry. Here are your messages," she handed a stack of post-it notes to her boss without quite meeting her gaze.

Vicki chuckled softly to herself as she headed into her office to decide what was important and what wasn't. She knew that the instant she turned her back, Coreen would go straight back to whatever it was Henry had asked her to do.

She pulled her shoulder length blond hair into a pony tail and sat down at her desk.

Fifteen minutes later she was back out in the outer office asking Coreen what exactly Henry had asked her to look up. Nothing in her messages looked even remotely interesting at the moment. Chasing down cheating spouses might pay the rent – and chasing down things that went bump in the night might sometimes annoy her (there was nothing more irritating than being Toronto's resident 'weirdness magnet') – but after a while the routine was too routine. Besides, if Henry was involved in something than Vicki knew she'd become involved sooner or later. Probably sooner. That was the nature of their relationship.

Coreen flashed an almost triumphant looking grin at her boss's return. "Here, look at these," she opened her email back up to show Vicki the photos that had been sent to her email.

"Gruesome."

"No body."

"That doesn't make it any less gruesome," the police officer turned private investigator opined, taking a seat on the edge of her assistant's desk. "Where is this?" she asked, wondering why she hadn't heard about it.

"Cardiff. Wales," Coreen added to Vicki's quizzical look.

The look only became more quizzical, however.

Coreen shrugged, "Some friend of Henry's sent it to him."

"What friend?" she asked in an incredulous tone, glancing at the return email address. _CaptainJHarkness. _It was nobody Henry had ever mentioned, not that Henry actually mentioned things like friends to her.

"I dunno… it's kind of exciting though. I mean… " she cleared her throat. "This is definitely some occult script, I just can't figure out which one."

"All right. Let me know if you find anything. I'm going across the street for a coffee – do you want anything?"

Coreen's kohl encircled eyes lit up, "Oooh, if they have those pineapple-chocolate Danishes…"

Vicki cringed but promised to check. There was something about the combination of pineapple and chocolate that made her question her assistant's tastes.

Then again, some days Vicki wondered how she'd let herself get talked into hiring someone who wore more eyeliner than Siouxsie Sioux and dressed like she'd raided Stevie Nick's closet. Coreen was the first thing potential clients saw when they walked in…

_And she probably isn't even old enough to know who Siouxsie Sioux is…_ Vicki sighed as she headed across the street to the coffee shop in search of much needed caffeine and pineapple-chocolate Danishes.

……………………………………………………………….

Ianto stopped where he was; he didn't get the same adrenaline rush he knew the others did in situations like this. He took a couple of quick little breaths and let them out, calmly intent on his surroundings.

The shadow-hidden figure was crouched down seemingly looking at something dark and slick on the pavement and didn't seem to have noticed him. He (or possibly she) wore a hooded jersey further obfuscating their features. From the person's hand something dangled over the wet spot on the ground. It looked like a necklace, maybe.

Gripping his gun tightly, Ianto called out, "You there!"

The person's head jerked up. He (for lack of a better pronoun) stood up and took off running.

Ianto followed in swift pursuit, the pavement pounding away under his feet. He was just as glad he'd opted for jeans tonight; the prospect of ruining yet another suit chasing down aliens (or humans) wasn't a pleasant one, especially since he had yet to convince Jack that they needed a clothing allowance.

"Hey!" he called after the person he was chasing. Not that he actually expected the other to listen.

He zigged and zagged rapidly through the maze of storage units, eventually breaking out into the open about a hundred paces from the fence. Just under the light, Ianto could see a gap in the chain link. He cursed under his breath. He didn't trust his marksmanship skills enough to just wound the other, not at a dead run, and there wasn't enough provocation to risk killing him. He wasn't necessarily the murderer, after all.

The other man slowed only slightly as he got to the opening in the fence, swiveling his body to slide through. That's when Ianto saw his face… he couldn't speak so he mouthed the word instead, his brows furrowed.

_Dafydd._

Dafydd Jones paused just long enough for Ianto to be sure he wasn't imagining things; his younger brother's expression gave him the feeling he was in as much shock as he was.

Ianto lowered his pistol and took a step closer, but Dafydd slipped the rest of the way through the fence and disappeared into the night.

………………………………………………………………..

"There's nothing we can do about it now," Jack decided when Ianto told him what had happened. "We need to get the body back to the Hub and get this cleaned up."

"Jack… I have talk to him…"

"And say _what,_ exactly?" the Captain wanted to know.

"I… I'm not sure," he admitted. "But if he's involved in whatever's going on…"

"If he's involved, I doubt he went back to his flat after seeing you here tonight."

Ianto nodded, yielding to Jack's judgment. He would be the first person to admit that his own was clouded at the moment. Besides, from the Hub they could use the CCTV system to look for Dafydd's car, assuming he was in it. They could also track his mobile and credit cards. That was a better way of finding him than running all over Cardiff, because honestly, Ianto had to admit to himself that he wouldn't know where to start looking anyway.

Ianto initiated the search from the computer terminal in backseat of the SUV while Jack drove. Bobby sat upfront; Wendy was in the back with him.

She had confirmed that the slick spot on the pavement was human blood. It was reasonable to assume from the evidence that the woman found dead on the scene had been killed there and then her body moved into the warehouse where a night watchman had stumbled on it. Bobby would have to check the DNA once they got into the Hub to confirm the theory, but the scenario seemed straight forward enough to be accurate.

………………………………………………………………..

Ianto looked up from the computer at his station when Jack set the cup of tea down at his elbow. It was jasmine-orange. It wasn't Ianto's favourite, it was his mother's, which was why it was what he drank when he was especially upset. He hadn't realized that Jack had ever noticed.

"Thanks," the Welshman didn't have to force the smile he gave his partner.

The older man leant against his desk, "Find anything?"

"He didn't go home. He hasn't turned up anywhere we've got a feed from, either. Nothing on his mobile or his credit cards or his ATM card. And I called Nerys but he hasn't turned up at Mam's."

"I'm sure he's ok, Sweetheart."

There it was again, that word that made his heart melt every time Jack said it. Only in this instance he knew it meant Jack didn't believe what he was saying. Dafydd _wasn't_ ok and they both knew it.

Ianto sipped his tea without meeting the other man's gaze. "Him not being ok isn't what I'm afraid of, Cariad."

"I know your bother is a little mixed up right now, but I'm sure he's not a murderer."

The Welshman gave him an incredulous look.

"Come on… you don't really believe… "

He cut Jack off, "Why didn't I see this coming? He dropped out of school and just look at him. The way he dresses… the way he acts…" there had been a thousand little signs that something was wrong.

"That doesn't mean he's a killer. I'm_ sure_ there's some other explanation."

Ianto wasn't sure which one of them he was really trying to convince, but when he leant forward he was infinitely grateful for the way his partner folded his arms around him and held him tight. It wasn't just seeing Dafydd tonight and everything that might imply that was upsetting him.

He felt like an ass for the way he'd acted at home.

They didn't exactly have a specifically exclusive relationship, yet Jack had never done anything to lead him to believe he was cheating or that he wanted any sort of extramarital something…he just was who he was. He flirted with everything under the sun. He'd been born in a time when – as far as Ianto could tell – polygamy was as normal as breathing. He loved Jack enough to accept that of him. _Just not in my own home…_ but that didn't excuse the way he'd acted, either. He'd accused jack of being childish but what had he been doing?

"Can we talk about us now?" Jack asked tentatively.

Ianto nodded, expecting Jack to berate him for the way he'd treated him; he reckoned he deserved it, even if maybe Jack did, too. They'd both been wrong, he just wasn't sure the Captain was going to see it that way.

The soft kiss to his forehead surprised him, though. Ianto looked up; there was nothing derisive in the older man's expression.

Jack perched himself on the edge of Ianto's desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "Henry and I were lovers," he said honestly. "It was a_ long_ time ago. We both said things… made promises… and who knows, maybe someday we'll keep those promises, I don't know. But the last time I saw him, he'd moved on. So had I."

"He doesn't look more than twenty years old."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

The Welshman frowned, but allowed his partner to continue without interruption.

"I promise, I'll tell you all about it if you want to know, but I have something to say first," he waited until Ianto nodded to indicate he was listening to continue. "Your life is too short, too precious… our life together… here… now," his voice caught. "I don't want to waste a single second of the time we have together with someone else. Don't get me wrong," he added with a smile, though his eyes were still glistening over, "I wouldn't mind getting you and Henry in bed together…"

Ianto chuckled; anything else from Jack would have surprised him.

"But no matter what you think, as far as_ I'm_ concerned this has been an exclusive relationship since I asked you to move in with me, Ianto. I _thought_ you understood that."

"Jack…" he faltered, realizing just how much his stupid fit of jealousy had hurt the other man. "I do. I'm sorry. I guess sometimes I have a hard time convincing myself that… that you're not going to want more someday."

"Well, like I said about that threesome…" he teased. Then, in a more serious tone, "You're my partner. My best friend. My lover. You put up with me," he added with another smile. "We have such a finite amount of time together. I don't want to waste any of it, because when it's gone_ all_ I'm going to have left of you are memories like this," he leant in and pressed his lips to the younger man's…


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **

So far it looks like a good bet that Torchwood is going to get a goth-y forensics expert (will they ever be the same?), although a very good case has recently been made for McGee as well in a personal email to me.

Even if John doesn't win that coveted team spot, he will play a part in an upcoming story (and Ianto won't shoot him _or_ shag him as much as the former might amuse me and the latter steam up a few monitors….)

Thanks for your input. This has been fun; I appreciate you guys indulging me. '-) I'll keep it going through Friday.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: More Things In Heaven and Earth **

…………………………………………

"I erm…" Bobby cleared his throat, but neither Jack nor Ianto came up for air. "I have a preliminary autopsy report. If you're interested." He felt like he was talking to a brick wall. Or maybe a pair of them. Jack and Ianto were making out like a couple of teenagers at prom. "Or I could just leave it here and you can get to it… whenever…"

With a reluctant heave of his shoulders, Jack straightened, pulling away from his partner. "I think I like it when we do that in my office better," he said to Ianto wearing an amused grin on his face.

"That's only because it's closer to your bed," the younger man retorted.

"Except my bed is still in storage, remember?"

"Right. Storage room next time?"

Jack flashed him a wicked smirk and took the report from Bobby. "And don't look that bashful, it's not like I haven't caught you and Wendy on the CCTV," he added in the blond's direction.

"What?" Ianto snapped his head up stare at the medic who was now a flushed as he was.

"Erm… anyway… " Bobby ran one hand through his unruly hair. "The blood on the pavement matches the victim. Cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the skull." He flipped to the image so Jack could see for himself. "My best guess is a crowbar or some kind of narrow pipe. Not that I suppose it matters," he muttered in response Jack's expression; cause of death wasn't an issue in this case. It was what had happened afterwards that made it something for Torchwood to be investigating. "After that she was moved to the warehouse and… well… " Jack had seen the body. "The heart and liver are both missing," he said, confirming his earlier suspicions.

Ianto paled visibly.

Aware of the younger man's pallor and the reasons behind it (Ianto still sometimes had nightmares about cannibals) Jack shifted his foot over until it was touching his partner's. It wasn't much, but it seemed to be enough.

A tight smile flickered across Ianto's face and Jack returned it. "Anything else?" he asked Bobby.

"I'm not a forensics expert, but I'd say that whoever did this didn't have any kind of surgical training. They used something sharp, a kitchen knife or a hunting knife maybe. They didn't seem to know how to get past the ribcage without making a mess."

Ianto swallowed.

Jack nodded. "All right. Finish up and get some sleep."

After Bobby had taken his leave, the Captain eased himself forward and wrapped his partner up in his arms.

"I'm ok," he whispered, holding onto Jack as tightly as he could.

"I know you are," came the soft reply. He placed a gentle kiss on his Welshman's neck before pulling back, just enough so he could look into those beautiful grey-blue eyes.

"I meant everything I said earlier," Jack reminded him, his tone still soft. "You're one of the most important things in my life."

Ianto flushed as his heart fluttered; even as a teenager, he hadn't been prone to the kind of overwhelming emotion he felt around Jack. "I love you too. So much so that I guess I get a little jealous sometimes."

"A little?" Jack teased.

He chuckled, "All right. A lot jealous. I'll work on it, I promise. I _do_ have a question, though."

"You still want to know how long I've known Henry."

The younger man nodded.

"Pull up the Internet and do a name search," Jack prompted.

Ianto felt warmth overtaking his cheeks. "I erm…" he cleared his throat. "I already did."

Jack raised his eyebrows, "Checking up on me, huh?" he smirked.

"It… that is… I did it right after the first time you got a package from him. I wanted to know who he was."

Jack chuckled; it was so typical of Ianto to feel like he honestly, truly _had_ to know everything. "What did you find out?"

He shrugged, "He's a graphic artist who lives in Toronto. There were one or two gallery shows and a couple of ads from booksellers who were carrying his work."

"Anything else?"

"What else is there?"

"Search his name again."

Perplexed, Ianto did as Jack had asked. He pulled up the Internet and typed _Fitzroy, Henry, artist_ into his favourite search engine. Before he could hit the search button, however, Jack reached in and backspaced the word 'artist' out of the box.

"Jack, if you do that you're going to get a bunch of historical references," Ianto said in an exasperated tone.

Jack shot him a wry smile and hit the search button anyway.

"All right, so he has the same name as Henry the Eight's illegitimate son. I'd figured that out without having to look it up."

"Not quite."

Ianto looked up at him, uncertainty playing across his features. "What do you mean 'not quite'?"

"Henry has his own name. Although I've never thought any of the paintings of him from the time did him much justice… " he clicked on a particularly bad image bringing it to full-screen view. "You saw him – the real him. This is horrible… he keeps telling me it was the 'style of the period.'"

"What exactly are you saying? That… your friend Henry is… " he couldn't quite finish the sentence. Jack's Henry Fitzroy was _the _Henry Fitzroy?

"His father was Henry the Eight. His mother was some courtier. He's four hundred and… "

"Four hundred and seventy four years old," said Ianto, doing the math faster than Jack ever could. "How?" he wanted to know, new insecurities running through his mind. If this Henry was like Jack…or… or an alien maybe… if he could live that long and not age…

"This is going to take some explaining," Jack admitted.

"I'm listening," Ianto told him, trying to hang onto all those wonderful things Jack had said just a few minutes ago. "You… you were lovers?" he asked even though he didn't want to hear Jack tell him that he'd loved this other man. It wasn't that Ianto expected to be the only person there ever was, but it was easier when they weren't still around. Still gorgeous. _Four hundred and seventy four years old…_

The Captain crossed his arms over his chest again and leant back against Ianto's desk. "We met in Paris, 1922. He noticed me watching him and bought me a drink."

"Love at first sight?"

Jack flashed a classic Jack-smile. "Lust maybe."

Ianto smiled back at him; he couldn't help it. He nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"We were together for six months, then I had to leave. I had no idea who he was. We met again during World War II. He was an Allied spy. I was picking up some information he had for us. We each had some explaining to do."

"What happened?"

"He asked me to stay with him," Jack answered honestly, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

Ianto merely nodded to acknowledge what had been said. "Why didn't you?" His tone was as neutral as the look on his face, but his partner didn't miss the way he shifted his gaze so that he was no longer looking him in the eye.

Jack reached out and tilted Ianto's face back up so he had no choice but to look him in the eye. "There were lots of reasons. But the biggest one was that I wasn't in love with him, not like _this_."

Ianto swallowed. He leant forward, resting his chin on one hand, looking up at Jack, leaning in close to him. "You were still waiting for your Doctor, though," he observed.

"There was more to it than that."

The younger man nodded, his expression still carefully neutral. "It must have been tempting… I mean… he can't die, right? He's some kind of… immortal… or an alien?"

"He _can_ die. He is dead. At least that's the way he explained it to me."

Ianto blinked in surprise. "Like Owen?"

"No. If Henry gets hurt, he heals – at an incredible rate in fact."

"So what is he?"

Jack realized he'd been dancing around the word for too long. It was stupid really, and not his style. With all the things they encountered on a day to day basis, why should he shy away from one word? _Probably because of all the negative stereotypes… _

Then again, Ianto's best friend was a werewolf, so to say that he was open minded was probably a fair assessment. _God, maybe I should recruit Liz… _if she weren't stuck at a conference in Brazil, he would have asked her to come in and lend a hand, since the paranormal really was her field.

"Jack?"

"Henry Fitzroy is a vampire."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Wow… Sara Sidle from CSI and Abby are both on top… erm… right. It's too early for my mind to be in the gutter, I just had a Jack moment with that thought… guess I need more coffee ;-)

This chapter is especially for the lovely ladies of Muppetmadness who are getting exam results today (although I suspect you did great!)

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Dawn**

………………………………………………………………………

Ianto sat for several long moments digesting the last word that had come out of Jack's mouth. He supposed that it was rather silly for a man who regularly spoilt a pterodactyl with mutton and dark chocolate to say that what Jack had just said was impossible.

Except that it sounded impossible. Vampires were myths. Folklore. Dracula was just a story, badly exaggerated history for the sake of fiction... then again the wolfman and the Loch Ness Monster were just stories, too.

Nessie, Ianto had read in a UNIT file, was alien... or at least had been created by aliens. They had an alien explanation for Wendy, too. Sort of. "You mean vampire as in pointy teeth, doesn't have a tan, drinks…" Ianto's eyes widened as a thought crossed his mind. "You're not seriously telling me that you… and him… and you… I mean he didn't…? Did he? Jack?"

"I didn't know about his… nature… in Paris."

"What were you doing in Paris anyway?" Ianto wanted to know.

"Torchwood."

"Torchwood sent you to _Paris?"_ he asked, grumbling. "The most exciting place you've ever sent me _Barry!"_

Jack laughed, "I promise, the next time aliens show up in Paris, you'll be the one I send to check it out."

"I'll hold you to that."

Still chuckling, Jack continued, "Anyway, I didn't know what he was until we ran into each other during the War."

"But you didn't stay with him."

Jack shrugged. "We went our seperate ways and I didn't see him again until I found him in Toronto. That was during the nineteen nineties."

"You went looking for him?"

"Yes."

Ianto was quiet a long moment. It was silly to be jealous of somebody Jack had gone looking for ten or fifteen years ago, long before they'd ever met. It was silly to be jealous of someone who would outlive him… never age… always be gorgeous…

Jack reached forward with his foot again, giving Ianto's toe a nudge.

The younger man looked up inquisitively.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened in Toronto?"

"You said you'd both moved on. Who were you seeing?"

"No one in particular. But it wasn't the same."

"Did you… I mean… I don't even know what I mean, Jack." He finally realized. He had absolutely no idea how to process the information. "You're both going to live forever."

"Maybe. And maybe someday we'll meet up again and it'll be like it was in Paris, I don't know."

"How do you expect me to feel secure about us knowing all this?"

"I expect you to trust me," Jack told him the truth, a little hurt that he had to say it.

"Do you ever regret not staying with him?"

"Sometimes. When somebody I love dies it makes me wonder what it would be like to have... to have the kind of relationship he'd been asking me for with somebody I _don't _have to watch grow old and die."

Ianto reached out and brushed some of the hair off Jack's forehead; the pain in the older man's tone made him hurt, too. "I guess I should be glad you have someone you can turn to, someone who understands what it is to live forever, to never change. Give or take a few grey hairs," he added grinning with a wry little grin.

It was the joke that told Jack Ianto would be ok. He leant forward and pressed his lips to the younger man's mouth. "What do you say we continue this at home?" Jack asked several long, pleasant moments later. "There isn't anything more we can do here tonight, anyway," he added to the look on his partner's face.

"I just feel like I should be doing more to find Dafydd."

"There's only so much you can do, Sweetheart. If it'll make you happy, we can swing by his flat on the way home…"

Ianto nodded. It would make him feel a lot better to know he'd done at least that much. "Just one thing though. You and Henry… I mean… the whole… blood… thing…?" he hesitated, not sure he wanted to know, but according to some of the folklore...

Jack's expression was enough to tell him that yes he had and that apparently Jack had enjoyed it. A _lot_. Ianto found himself considering that threesome idea a little more than he would have cared to admit to...

……………………………………………………………………

"Jack…" the Welshman hesitated as they got out to the SUV.

"Hmm?" Jack murmured, deep in his own thoughts as well. "What is it?" the older man looked up. The Henry discussion had seemed to be closed, but Ianto's tone and expression were both pensive.

"I erm… I was wondering… I know Mickey just joined us, but… I mean… with everything going on," he stopped outside the passenger side of the vehicle and leant up against it, looking over the top of the SUV. "You know, you and me and… Jason… and everything…"

"Ianto, what's the matter?"

The Welshman cleared his throat, "I was wondering if… you'd consider hiring… I mean… with whatever's going on with Gwen… Something is going on with Gwen, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jack slid into the SUV.

Ianto followed suit, getting into the passenger seat next to him. "What is it?" he asked, because Jack's expression told him that whatever was up with Gwen, he wasn't happy about it.

"I promised her I wouldn't say anything," he started the SUV and eased it out of the car park.

"She's not thinking of leaving us, is she?"

Jack blinked, but really, he knew he shouldn't be surprised by Ianto's perceptiveness. "I'm not sure. She's pregnant."

"That's great… isn't it?"

Jack shrugged; the road was clear. He realized as he glanced eastwards that the sun was starting to come up. _So much for being home before anybody gets up…_ as it was, they'd be heading back in, in a few hours. But Ianto would at least get the chance to go home and shower and dress for work.

The world, Jack thought with a quiet little smile, might actually come grinding to a halt if Ianto Jones-Harkness were ever forced to show up for a proper work day in anything less than a suit and tie. "I have to call her today and sort it out," he said. "It would have been more great if she'd told me _before_ I dragged her out into the field with you and Mickey."

"Is that why she got so sick the other night?" Ianto asked; Jack could see the pieces of the puzzle starting to fit together in the younger man's head. "That's how you knew, you were sick like that with Jason," Ianto concluded.

He nodded.

"So," Ianto began again. "I was thinking… wondering really… if this might be a good time to consider looking for new people? Even if Gwen doesn't leave, she's going to be on light duty… oh God, you're not going to let her near the coffee machine like you did Owen, are you? Jack… _please_…"

He laughed at his partner's tone. It was as much over his young Welshman's panic and his possessiveness of that stupid machine as it was over the fact that Ianto had said Owen's name twice tonight without that forlorn look in his eyes. _He's healing,_ Jack thought. They all were, but Ianto had gone through such pains to hide how much he missed Toshiko and Owen that Jack worried about him.

He reached over and gave his partner's knee a gentle pat. "She'll be on desk duty and… and maybe we can get her to man the tourist office or something, but I promise, I won't let her near your coffee machine."

"Thank you."

Jack just shook his head… although thinking of coffee made him wish he'd asked Ianto to make him a travel mug before they left. Maybe after swinging by Dafydd's flat, he'd find a Starbucks.

"As for bringing in new people," Jack said as he turned into the younger Jones' street, "you might have a point. With us moving out of the Hub and Gwen having to take it easy, we could probably use one or two more people."

"Do you want me to start a search?"

Jack shook his head. "I'll send feelers out to some friends…" the odd smile on the his partner's face stopped him.

"Sorry. Just the way you said 'feelers'. You made it sound terribly kinky.'

Jack chuckled, "Maybe it's something we should try later. You. Me. Feelers…" he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Ianto laughed; maybe he was just tired. "Later, Cariad. We're going to have to head back in soon."

"We might have time for a quick... "

"Children, Jack. Jason's friends are over, remember?"

"Ok, so quick_ and_ quiet…"


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you again for the reviews! **Final poll results are in my bio...

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**Chapter Thirteen: Standard Follow Up**

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"Thanks, Jack," Ianto gave him a soft smile as they entered Dafydd's flat. The door had been locked, but it was a ground floor flat with widows frighteningly easy to open from the outside. Jack shimmied in first.

The Welshman knew his partner would rather go home and shower (amongst other things) and get ready for the day than to spend the next hour or so searching Dafydd's apartment.

The Captain shrugged. "Standard follow up," he answered simply, hoisting Ianto up by the hand.

"Standard follow up that you could have asked Wendy or Mickey to handle."

The older man merely shrugged again. He looked around the small living room, wrinkling his nose at the sour milk smell that permeated everything. "I see the urge to clean doesn't run in the family. This place would give that Kim and Aggie of yours a_ fit_." Not that Jack was much of a fan of the show; Ianto however, seemed to enjoy watching the pair of middle-aged 'cleaning experts' tackle other people's problem homes.

His comment garnered a ghost of a smile out of the younger man before they turned to different corners to begin searching for anything that might tell them where to find the younger Jones brother or what he had doing last night.

Jack had to shuffle old pizza boxes – some with the remnants of petrified pizza still inside – out of the way so he could check out the stack papers underneath.

"Don't bother trying the lights," he said a moment later as Ianto made for the lamp.

The Welshman gave him a quizzical look; Jack held up the shut off notice he'd just discovered. It was dated for two days ago. He doubted Dafydd had gotten around to paying it.

"He was never like this before, Cariad," Ianto insisted, taking the shut off notice from his partner's hand to look at it himself. Dafydd was two months behind. "Something must have happened to him. He was always _so_ responsible."

Jack heard what the younger man wasn't saying. Ianto had been the cock up, at least as far as the majority of the Jones family was concerned. Even now, they thought he was frittering his life away in a Tourist Office.

"Ianto… you know the… when the Daleks invaded, when they hijacked the Earth out if its orbit, it affected a lot of people," he kept his tone as gentle as possible. It seemed like every day some new cult or crack pot turned up with some new theory, each flying more in the face of reason than the last.

The people of Earth had _not_ been ready for what had happened to them. It wasn't supposed to have happened at all.

But while most people were trying to put their lives back together, trying to move on and heal from the tragedy and shock of what had happened that day, a few were reaching for explanations and grasping onto the most charismatic leaders rather than rational, scientific explanations.

Without answering, Ianto turned away from him and resumed his search the bookshelf. It was all old textbooks and dusty paperback novels… He stopped a moment when he came across a photo album. Flipping though the pages, he wondered if his Captain was right… but Dafydd had dropped out of University _before_the Daleks invaded.

Jack came up behind him and laid a hand gently on his shoulder. "We'll figure this out, Ianto. I promise."

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, Jack."

"I never do."

He glanced over his shoulder at the other man and despite the anxiety he felt over his younger brother's involvement in whatever was going on, he smiled. Jack had never made a promise he hadn't kept.

While Ianto checked through the rest of the shelves in the bookcase, the Captain flipped open his wrist strap and did a sweep for alien technology, thankfully coming up with nothing.

"Although I'm a little afraid of what kinds of life-forms I might find lurking in your brother's fridge," he remarked aloud, flashing a characteristically toothy grin, his eyebrows raised.

Ianto, however, wasn't smiling. "As long as it's not someone's heart and liver, I'll be happy."

The statement made Jack's breath hitch in his throat. There were a lot of things he couldn't quite remember from before his two thousand years underground, but that day with the cannibals was one thing he would _never_forget. He had come too close to losing Ianto that day. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jack entered the kitchenette and opened the refrigerator door.

"Looks like the scariest thing in here is fuzzy tuna fish," he called out, holding up the dish of mouldy tuna.

Ianto made a face. Dafydd's flat should be quarantined as hazardous to public health...

The soft click of a key at the front door silenced the comment on his lips; both men drew their guns.

Jack motioned for Ianto to move out of line of sight of the door.

It creaked open slowly, "Dafydd…?" Nerys' eyes widened at the sight of Jack holding the Welby, even though he'd lowered it as soon as he saw it was her and not Dafydd. "What are you… Yan?" she saw her brother then as well. "What are you two doing here?" she demanded.

"What are _you _doing here?" Jack countered in a sharp officious tone that Nerys had never heard out of him before.

She cleared her throat, feeling as if she was under interrogation. "When Ianto called me like that, I got worried," she knew she sounded defensive. She _felt _defensive. But they didn't have any more right to be here than she did. _She _had Mam's key… never mind that she'd nicked it off the key ring and left a note telling her mother that she was going to rescue a friend who'd had a flat tire on their way into work this morning. "What's going on here? Where's Dafydd?"

Jack considered the option of retconning Nerys for her own good (or maybe his), but he wasn't sure Ianto would go for it. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that his young Welshman _wouldn't_go for it. He realized, however, that his partner was still waiting for his ok before he told his sister what had happened. He nodded, once, in Ianto's direction.

"I saw Dafydd last night," he told his sister.

Nerys didn't miss the way her brother had waited for Jack's approval before speaking. "Where? What happened?"

"I… we… he might be mixed up in something."

"What…?"

"Why don't you help us search the place?" Jack suggested, cutting her off before she could ask more questions they didn't have the answers to. "You and Ianto know Dafydd better than I do," he added. "You'll probably notice something I'd miss." He holstered his gun. What he wasn't ready to say aloud was that if Nerys was here helping them search, she wasn't out there somewhere, getting herself into trouble…

After a thorough search of Dafydd's falt, the most incriminating things that turned up were a deck of well-used tarot cards, a small bag of marijuana and some crystals that most definitely were _not _extraterrestrial in origin.

Ianto extracted a promise of the most solemn nature out of his sister (something from their youth, Jack reckoned, as he didn't understand what exactly he was making her make the oath on) that she would go straight home and not mention a word of this to their Mam or anyone else.

"If I find out anything, I'll call you," Ianto promised in return. "You _have _to leave this to us, Ner. If he calls or turns up…"

"I'll ring you straight away," she gave her word.

……………………………………………………………

The combination of hot water pelting down on his body and cool tiles pressing into his back was incredible. Ianto gave Jack's wet shoulder a rough, hungry kiss as the older man pushed him harder against the bathtub wall; it would have hurt if everything else didn't feel so good.

He felt his body being hoisted up by strong arms; he wrapped his legs around his partner's waist, surrendering total control of his body over to the older man without reservation. _It's all yours,_ he thought in Jack's direction. _Every part of me… _He shut his eyes against the spray of water and held on tight as Jack pushed him further up on the tile wall.

A soft groan escaped his lips as the other man slid inside him, "Oh God. I love you so much..." _I'll love you forever… _

"I love you too," Jack responded without hesitation; he pulled Ianto's face to his, pressing his lips roughly over the younger man's mouth, demanding surrender. His Welshman yielded instantly to his kiss… they both came quickly, but Jack didn't stop kissing him for several minutes, his tongue roving over every part of the younger man's mouth... his neck… he left what was sure to be a spectacular mark on the younger man's shoulder, but as long as it was below the collar, Ianto wouldn't ever complain.

The brevity of the encounter was a record, but when they'd come in Ella was already up making pancakes for Jason and his friends. Jack had promised his son they'd stay for breakfast but then they had to head back to work. Both men ignored the look Jack's mother gave them. She clearly didn't approve of the amount of time they spent working.

Jack lathered up the loofa with liquid bath soap and gently rubbed it across his partner's back. Ianto heaved a soft sigh of contentment that made the older man smile. He pulled him closer and kissed that bruise he'd left; the younger man chuckled.

"It's like being married to a teenager," he murmured.

"And your point is?" Jack challenged.

Ianto just shook his head in response and let Jack wash him before he turned and returned the favour.

Maybe it _was_time to consider hiring a few more people, Jack thought. He'd always wanted to keep Torchwood small, but things were different now.

It wasn't just Gwen being pregnant; it was him wanting more moments like this, more time with his partner, with his son… For the first time in a long time, Jack wanted a life outside Torchwood, a _real_ life.

What he had said to Ianto to abate the younger man's jealousy over he and Henry was all too true. Life was too short. Ianto's life. Jason's. His mother's. Jack didn't want to waste the time he had with them the way he'd wasted his time with so many other people.

When they were gone, all he'd have left would be his memories. Pictures faded. Coffee cups and stopwatches broke. Someday even that red UNIT cap would disintegrate under the strain of time's passage and all he would have left of his life here would be his memories. He had to make sure he had as many of them as possible to keep him warm on all those long nights that were yet to come…

"Cariad?" Ianto seemed to sense the change in Jack's mood. "Are you all right?"

"Perfect," Jack leant in and kissed him softly. "Come on," he reached for a towel. "We'd better get downstairs while there's still food left."

* * *

**A/N: **

_**Next chapter**__: Henry arrives in Cardiff…_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **

I lied, but not on purpose; I had so many things going the yesterday that I almost (ok, totally) forgot about Gwen…

I realize it doesn't specifically advance the plot, but a little introspection on Gwen's part just feels right…

Thank you again for reading and reviewing and I appreciate the warm response that the new story has gotten too... I doubt anything else will be updated for 5 or 6 days. The next chapter really** is** Henry arriving in Cardiff, I've started writing it.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Desk Duty**

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"You have syrup… right… there…" Jack kissed the syrup drip off Ianto's chin despite the younger man's protests.

"Your dads are gross!" One of the boys made a sour face. "Just like my parents," he added with a disgusted whine.

The others giggled; Jason was looked mortified.

"All right, enough," Ella shooed Jason and his friends out of the room. They'd long since finished their pancakes and had been stacking their dishes into the sink under her direction when Jack and Ianto had finally arrived downstairs for breakfast.

Jason lingered a little behind his friends; although he shot his father a dark, clearly humiliated look over the kissing, there was something else on his mind, too.

"What's up, buddy?" Jack asked him when it became clear Jason was hanging back, seemingly waiting for something.

Giving him an uncertain look, Jason asked if he was working late today.

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Paulie and Bert invited me to a football game…"

"You can go," Jack told him.

"I want you to come too."

Jack sighed, glancing briefly at Ianto. "Something came up at work the other night. I'm not sure how much free time I'm going to have until I fix it."

Although he seemed to be trying to hide it, Jason was obviously hurt.

"Hey… we'll go to a football game sometime, I promise," Jack told him.

His son faced him with large sorrowful eyes and ran out of the room.

"Jack…" Ianto began.

"I can't put this ahead of last night."

"_This_ is why we do what we do, remember?" his tone was sharper than he'd intended it to be. "There's no point to putting our lives on the line ever day if we don't get to enjoy the things in this world we're supposed to be protecting."

Jack looked at him, as surprised by the younger man's words as he was by his tone.

"You made Gwen promise not to let go of her life. You said the same thing to me once, too. I have never known you to be a hypocrite, Jack." He got up from the table, taking both of their empty dishes to the sink.

Jack stood too, but before he could speak, Ianto did, not looking over his shoulder. "I'd like Gwen's help with Dafydd."

The Captain stuffed his hands into his pockets and sagged against the counter near the sink. "I'm not letting her go out in the field again, not in her condition."

"That isn't what I had in mind."

Jack shot him an inquisitive look.

"I need her to help me piece together Dafydd's movements over the last few months," he explained. "I know something happened to change him. I want to know what."

"All right," Jack nodded. He pulled one hand out of his pocket and laid it on the younger man's arm. "We ok?"

"I'm not angry with you," Ianto shut off the water and turned to fully face the other man. "I just don't want you giving up on what's important to you, either. We both know what Torchwood can do to someone. You're not immune. Jason will only be a kid once. After that, it's gone."

"Believe me, I know that," he slid his hand down the younger man's arm until he had hold of his hand. Jack rubbed his thumb over Ianto's wedding ring. "I promise, I'll hire some new people. We'll…we're going to make this work. Jason isn't the only person I want more time with."

The Welshman's only answer was a soft kiss to his partner's lips and the suggestion that they'd better hurry if they wanted to beat rush hour traffic.

……………………………………………………………………

Gwen was aware that all eyes were on her when she came into the Hub. She found herself wondering whose stupid idea it had been to have an alarm sound_ every_ time the cog door rolled aside, anyway.

She gave them her best cheerful greeting.

"He's in his office," Ianto told her simply. "Would you like a coffee?"

"Tea… please… Thank you, Ianto," she added in a quiet tone, suspecting that Jack had told him about her situation.

She glanced at the others; it was obvious they knew something was going on, but she wasn't sure if Jack had told them anything. She wouldn't put it past him… but it wasn't really like Jack to go telling secrets either.

They might just be wondering why she hadn't been in yesterday, because Jack would never think to cover for her with something like 'oh, Gwen? She's a bit under the weather…'

No, Jack wouldn't say a word and would avoid the question if asked, which would only give rise to more questions…

With a sigh, Gwen trudged into the Captain's office wondering if he was going to have a little white pill waiting for her.

Jack surprised her by standing up as soon as she walked in. He never stood for her.

"Have a seat," he indicated his chair; it was the only chair in the office.

"Jack…" she protested. She was pregnant, not infirmed.

"Sit. That's an order."

With another sigh, she obeyed.

"How're you feeling?" he asked before she could say anything.

"I spent most of last night throwing up. Rhys's mother keeps telling me how I shouldn't be throwing up yet, I'm less than a month along, it must all be in my head," she told him with a glower that was presumably meant for Mrs. Williams. "My Mam just says it's normal and to eat crackers and I'll be right as rain in a tick," she grumbled. "I ate a whole box of crackers last night. All I did was throw up crackers!"

Jack chuckled softly, "I spent nine months throwing up with Jason." He perched on the edge of his desk, facing her. "Crackers don't help that much but the throwing up _is_ normal."

She looked up at him, surprise playing on her features.

"You really think I made up that whole being pregnant story?" He asked her.

"Well… you're a man… " she finished that last word with just enough of a lilt to make it almost a question.

He raised his eyebrows at her; Ianto stepped into the office with two mugs just in time to have Jack ask him if he was really a man.

"Erm… the last time _**I**_ checked you were, Sir. And that was less than…" he set down both mugs and glanced at his watch, "two hours ago. Should I even inquire as to why you're asking?"

Jack picked up his cup and took an experimental sip. It was perfect, as always. "Gwen was wondering," he said in a casual tone.

Gwen blushed.

"Is this an office poll, then, or is it just Jack you're interested in?" Ianto replied in a dry tone that made her cheeks redden to almost the same shade as that UNIT cap Jack loved so much.

"I didn't mean… I just… "

Still chuckling merrily, Jack drank some more of his coffee.

Ianto cleared his throat and made his exit. Another second and he would have burst out laughing too, although he supposed he should have a little more sympathy for Gwen. Jack could be utterly impossible sometimes.

The Welsh woman tried to cover up her embarrassment by taking a sip of her tea. A new thought occurred to her and she put it down, giving the milky brown liquid a disdainful look.

If Jack was going to sack her, she wouldn't put it past him to get Ianto to help by retconning her tea. He had been awfully quick to offer her something…

"Relax, Gwen," Jack seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. "It's not drugged."

She gave him another long look.

"I'm not going to fire you."

She swallowed, but the cold lump of dread refused to leave her throat. "Why did you call me in, then?"

"We have to talk about this… about you."

"What's to talk about, Jack? I'm bloody pregnant."

He set down his cup and let his gaze settle fully on her. "You could have gotten somebody hurt – maybe even killed – the other night."

"You can't know that."

"Yes. I can. Do you think you're the only woman who's ever worked for Torchwood who ended up pregnant?"

She looked up at him with, big brown eyes widening in astonishment. "What? You mean…?"

"There's a reason why it _is_ standard procedure to quit, take the retcon. Have a normal life. Family and Torchwood don't mix Gwen. You've said it yourself. We _don't_ have a maternity plan…"

"But you said…and what about you…? You've a family now… "

He cut her off, "It doesn't matter about me. What does matter is that I don't want to lose you."

She felt the lump in her throat melting, "Do you really mean that?"

"Look, if you _want_ to quit…"

"I don't! Jack, please, I love this job. I'm sorry about the other night; I thought I could handle it. If I'd any idea that I couldn't, I would have told you. I'd only just taken the pregnancy test that morning and… and I wasn't sure how to tell you. I hadn't even told_ Rhys _yet."

"I take it you have?"

She nodded, sipping at her tea a little. She wasn't sure what kind it was, but it was perfect. _Leave it to Ianto to really know everything, even what will make me feel better._

"I told him yesterday," she said aloud. "Rhys was so happy, too," she didn't quite look up at Jack. She couldn't, although she wasn't sure why not. "You should've seen his face," she forced a smile. "I can't think the last time he was so happy."

"Why am I getting the feeling you're not happy about being pregnant?" Jack asked in a gentle tone.

"I am," she tried to sound more convincing. "Really I am, Jack. This just isn't how I'd planned it."

"Are… " he set his cup back down on his desk, "I assume you're planning on…"

She met his gaze quickly. "Oh, Jack, no, I couldn't. Rhys wants children. I have to do this for him. It's not the way I would have planned it, but it's happened, so… make the best of it, right?"

"I'm just saying that it's your body and whatever you decide you know we'll be here for you. _I'll_ be here for you," he leant forward and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Gwen took it, twining her fingers into his. "Thank you. But I want this to, I really do. I just wish… I wish things had gone differently is all." She let her cheek rest against their hands for a moment that even she realized was selfish. But it was just _one_ _moment_, it didn't mean anything and it couldn't hurt anything either. She had Rhys, he had Ianto and really, if anything had ever happened between them, it would have been an unmitigated disaster and she knew it.

She looked back up at him, forcing a tight little smile. "So what now?"

"I meant what I said about you not going into the field."

"I can handle it, Jack…"

His expression was enough to silence her.

"How long?"

"At least until the baby's born. After that… " he shrugged. "We can talk about it when the time comes."

"Please don't tell me you're going to turn me into the coffee girl …" her cheeks reddened again. "I mean… not that… there's nothing… I mean it's not that Ianto's job isn't important… or that he's just… I meant… "

He chuckled, "I promised him I wouldn't let you near his coffee machine."

She gave a sigh of relief… the expression soured quickly. "Wait a minute! Why doesn't he want me near his machine?"

"In case you haven't noticed, he's a little on the possessive side," he said, gently easing his hand back from her grasp.

Gwen found herself suddenly not able to look Jack in the eye again.

She drank some more tea, her mind slipping back to the incident at her wedding, when she'd thought it was Jack talking to her but really it had been the Nostrovite. The things she'd almost said…

Not that she didn't love Rhys. Not that she didn't love Ianto or Ianto and Jack _together_. She couldn't think of a better couple and she'd been prepared to slap sense into Jack on more than one occasion for the way he treated the younger man. _But sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we'd all made different choices,_ she admitted to herself.

"So what am I supposed to be doing if I'm not allowed in the field or near the coffee machine, then?"

"I'm sure I can come up with something useful for you to do," he flashed a lascivious grin. "In the meantime, Ianto needs your help with something," he added before she could respond.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **I'm using the television series more than the books as the basis of Henry/Vicki cannon. I really love what they've done w/ the television series, even if I wish they would have done the lycanthropy episode in line with the book Blood Trail rather than what they did do with it. Oh well. Can't have everything. I love Coreen, the M.E. (Dr.Mohadevan) and Henry's friend Dr. Sagara (even though they won't come into play here at all.)

**..**

**Chapter Fifteen: Henry Fitzroy**

……………………………………………………………

"Jack, interviewing a couple of university teachers is hardly field work," Gwen protested. Loudly. To Jack's back, as he turned to walk away. "They're just regular people!" she matched her stride with his, refusing to let him get away.

"Remember the cannibals?" he only said it because Ianto was out of earshot.

She gave him an exasperated sigh. "I've been cooped up in the Hub for two days! I'm going mad." Not that she minded chasing down leads on the telephone and computer. With Ianto's help and a couple of phone calls to his sister for additional information, Gwen had successfully to put together what she believed to be an accurate picture of Dafydd Jones' life. But there was nothing more she could do from the Hub. "Please, you _have_ to let me do something besides sit around here all day." She was not going to survive another nine months of this.

"Fine," Jack stopped and planted his hands on his hips. "You want something to do? You can go across the street and get us some coffee," he supposed he didn't mean to actually snarl at her, but that's how it came out. Fortunately he saw the murderous glint in her eye in time to side step the punch. At least it had only been aimed at his arm. Gwen had a mean right hook.

The sound of Ianto clearing his throat behind them drew both of their attention.

"I could go with her, you know," the Welshman suggested in a mild tone. "It really is just to the University."

"It's _still_ field work," Jack insisted.

"Jack,_ please_…"

"Would you little cheese with that wine, Gwennie?" Mickey teased from the safety of his desk. He'd started calling her that ever since he picked up her mobile phone one day and her aunt asked if Gwennie was around. Mickey wasn't going to tell the lady her niece was helping Jack and Ianto wrangle a giant slug into a holding cell, but he had been good enough to take a message.

Jack gave him a sharp look (it didn't compare to the look Gwen shot him, however. For half a second Jack thought he might have to restrain her… or maybe not. Mickey deserved it if she slugged him… Ianto's pointed glare told him that the younger man knew just what he was thinking and if he didn't want to find arsenic in his coffee tomorrow morning, he'd better settle this before Gwen blew.)

Mickey only made it worse by giving her a look of pure innocence that no one would ever have believed.

"I am not going to protect you, you know," Jack warned him, despite Ianto's expression.

"Like I need protecting from a woman."

"Oh dear," at that even the young Welshman stood clear.

It took Wendy all of three seconds to emerge from the medical bay. _**"What**_ did you just say?" she demanded.

"Erm… I mean… you know, a real woman. You know, human…" he floundered.

"Do you like the taste of your own knees?" Ianto commented in a dry tone, much to Jack's amusement.

"What d'you mean?" Mickey asked.

"You've clearly shoved more than just your foot in it…"

"All right enough, kids," Jack finally stepped in before things got really ugly. "You," he turned to Wendy, "Go with Gwen and interview some university teachers. Stick together and keep your coms open. Clear?"

Both women nodded; Gwen rolled her eyes. Wendy shot a parting glare at Mickey, and they made their exit.

Jack turned his attention to the Englishman. "You. There are a few boxes of alien artefacts with your name on them in storage room D-10. That's sub level four, room ten. Think you can find it or do I need to draw you a map?" his tone was scathing.

"How come they get to go out and I'm stuck mucking around in storage?"

"Because I said so. Besides, you're the one who's always saying how brilliant you are with alien tech."

Mickey heaved a sigh and trudged off. It was about as much punishment as sending a kid to a room full of really cool toys and Jack knew it.

He looked at Ianto. "And as for you…" he wanted to tell the younger man that he had a special job for _him_ on the roof… "Why don't you catch up with Gwen and Wendy? I'm sure they could use your help."

"Thank you, Jack," he leant in and pressed his lips gently to his partner's mouth. He knew that look on the other man's face. Jack had been about to suggest they sneak off to his office or the archives, maybe.

Jack caught Ianto's hand as he turned to go. "Remember I'm supposed to meet Henry later. You don't have to come if you don't want to…" he offered, not for the first time. Ianto had been apprehensive since Henry announced his plans to come to Cardiff. Apparently he didn't like what his friend had made of the writing they'd found written in blood the other night.

"I'll be there," he gave Jack's hand a quick squeeze before running out the cog door to see if he could catch up with Gwen and Wendy before they got out of the car park.

………………………………………………………………..

Ianto couldn't help the flutter of nervousness that overtook his stomach even before he and Jack sat down in the coffee shop.

A part of him wished he'd let Jack come alone tonight. He was too nervous to be here when the Captain saw Henry Fitzroy face to face again for the first time in almost fifteen years. But he _wanted_ to be here when they saw each other in person again because he'd be too nervous just sitting around the house waiting, wondering how the meeting was be going, with all those insecurities running around his head.

It wasn't just that that Henry was what he was, he was _**who**_he was. He was the son of one of Great Britain's most famous monarchs and he had nearly become a King himself. Ianto had taken some time over the last couple of days to refresh his memory on Henry's history; it was supposed to be something to do to take his mind off how worried he was about Dafydd, but all it had really done was give him something else to worry about as well.

How was a loyal Welsh citizen supposed to react when he met the real Henry Fitzroy in the flesh? How should he address him? How should he act? How would Henry act?

Couple that with the fact that Henry and Jack had been lovers and Henry had asked Jack to stay with him, even after Jack had told him he would never die… and Henry would never die… _and_ Jack was right, all those paintings done of him in his lifetime didn't do Henry justice. He was gorgeous, ageless, immortal, over four hundred years old… _How does anyone stand next to that and not feel intimidated? _Ianto asked himself again.

Jack returned to the table with their coffees. "Sorry I took so long. The line was murder," he apologized.

Ianto didn't respond except to offer up a thin smile as he wondered again why they were meeting in a coffee shop. Vampires didn't drink coffee… or at least he didn't think they did.

Of course Henry wasn't travelling alone… _his Highness…? his Grace…? _He'd never actually been named successor, but it was a well known fact that he was going to be… what _**was**_the proper title? Ianto didn't even realize he was nibbling on his bottom lip.

"Sweetheart, relax," Jack laid his hand over top of his partner's. He seemed to be trying not to smile too hard. "He's not some Bela Lugosi look alike with a bad accent. You met him the other night."

Ianto tried to laugh at the Bela Lugosi comment. It didn't work. "That's not what I'm worried about." He had every faith in his Captain's ability to judge a man's character, even if that man happened to be undead.

Jack gave him an inquisitive look, "Then what is it?"

"I've never met royalty before," he admitted sheepishly, not that it was the sort of thing that most people had done.

Jack just smiled one of those sweet, understanding smiles, the ones that very few people got to see. "If you want to get technical, Henry died over four hundred and fifty years ago. He's not really royalty any more."

Ianto was about to respond when Jack drew his hand back and stood up, his attention fixed on someone coming in the door.

The expression on the older man's face was enough to break the his heart. He didn't have to turn around to know who had just come in, but he did anyway.

Henry Fitzroy was even more devastatingly good looking in person than he had been on a computer screen.

Ianto could have accepted that if it weren't for the fact that with each step Henry took towards them, Jack's grin broadened. Only it wasn't _just _Jack's smile that was killing the younger man, it was his every bit of his body language. There was no doubting how much Jack cared about Henry. Loved him. And it wasn't like with the Doctor. Henry noticed; he knew. He reciprocated. His expression was just as exuberant as Jack's.

Ianto forced himself to his feet, embarrassed that it had taken him so long to rise (not that he got the feeling Henry had even seen him, let alone noticed his lack of manners.)

The Captain took two steps forward and closed his arms snugly around other man. Ianto watched him burry his face against Jack's shoulder and he heard him inhale deeply. He saw the way Henry relaxed completely in Jack's arms; he whispered something in French to the Captain. Jack chuckled and returned in kind.

Then Ianto noticed the woman who had come in behind Henry Fitzroy. She was looking at him too, wearing a thin smile that gave him the impression she was used to not being noticed when Henry was around.

She was attractive, in a thirty-something sort of way. She was almost as tall as Henry and had shoulder length dark blond that fell around her face in long layers. Everything about her suggested to the younger man that she was a no-nonsense sort of woman; he could appreciate that.

_And we're probably the only two people in the room capable of noticing the other_, Ianto mused in her direction. He returned the blond's smile with one of his own. _Why do people like us go for men like them?_ He wondered, feeling a surge of sympathy for the compete stranger standing in front of him.

Jack and Henry had collectively dominated the entire café without even trying, rendering their mere mortal companions more invisible than usual.

And then suddenly Henry's eyes were on him and he realized that the man… vampire… Duke… Earl… almost-Crown Prince… was holding his hand out and he wasn't entirely certain what he was expected to do. "It's nice to finally meet in person, Mr. Jones," Henry's voice was like silk.

Ianto accepted his hand. Henry was warm to the touch; he hadn't expected that. After Owen had come back, his skin had always been cool. Not as cold as a corpse's skin, but much cooler than a living person.

The Welshman forced a smile and found his voice enough to say that he was pleased to make the other man's acquaintance, but he still found himself unable to decide how he should address him.

"Henry," the other supplied simply, seeming to notice Ianto's hesitation. "I gave up on formality a long time ago," he added with a wink in Jack's direction. "Unlike some _other_ people I know," he teased.

"Hey, you were born to it. I _**worked**_ to get my stripes."

"I'm sure you did," Henry responded in a tone that left little doubt as to what he was implying Jack had done to work his way to the rank of Captain.

Henry gave a slight bow then, and speaking in a very formal tone made the introductions. "_Captain_Jack Harkness, Mr. Ianto Jones-Harkness, may I present my friend and colleague, Miss Victoria Nelson."

"Erm… just Vicki's fine." She held out her hand to Ianto first. "Pleased to meet you." When she extended her hand to Jack, he kissed it in typically over-the-top Jack fashion. "My God, he's as bad as you are," she groaned at Henry, who laughed at the comparison.

Ianto smiled in her direction. "You have _no _idea."

She glanced at Henry briefly before letting her gaze settle on the Welshman. "Actually I think I do," she smiled back.

He nodded. She probably did at that.

* * *

**_Next up: unravelling the mystery of what Dafydd has gotten himself into... _Thank you again for all the reviews fave/alert listings this has gotten! . ;-)**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:**

**Several things:**

1) **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and keeps on reading! **

2)** Super Special Thanks to Lizzie and Sarah who included this in their C2 forums… **that makes me feel SO incredibly special. Thank you!!

3) Sorry about the "time hop" at the beginning of the chapter, it just won't leave me alone and given that the Muses weren't talking to me much this last week…

4) _**Super sorry**_ I haven't updated in a while. It's been a week from Hell… the long and the short of it is that it's better now. There's still some stupid bureaucratic annoyances in my life, but I have officially done absolutely everything I possibly can, so it's out of my hands… (at least until the Powers that Be tell me something new, of course… but it's just red tape BS and nothing I'm going to let myself stress over any more.)

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Fears**

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_**Toronto, Ontario; 36 Hours Ago…**_

Vickie Nelson looked across her cluttered desk at the man sitting in one of the two second-hand chairs she kept to help make clients more comfortable wondering who he was and what he'd done with the real Henry Fitzroy. It wasn't that she'd never known Henry to be generous or that he'd never come to _her_ rescue, but logistics of vampiric nature aside, she couldn't think of many people in her _own _life she'd fly half way around the world to go visit on a whim. _She_, however, didn't have to worry about things like a twelve hour flight into the sunrise.

"You're kidding, right?" Vickie peeled the glasses off her face and set them at her elbow. The dull throb that had started at the base of her skull earlier in the day was getting worse. She blamed it on the current conversation.

Henry regarded her a moment before asking if he looked like he was kidding.

"England?" she questioned him, wondering briefly what one did when one's vampire partner began exhibiting signs of insanity. Or at least server lack of good judgement.

"Wales," he corrected her, his tone mild.

She waved it aside. "Whatever. How exactly are you planning on getting there?" He couldn't just hop on a plane… could he? _I suppose there's the cargo hold, but how in the Hell do you get a vampire through customs…?_

"When I crossed over the Atlantic the first time, I came by ship, but seeing as how air travel has greatly improved in the last half a century…" his tone was ripe with sarcasm.

Vickie shot over an incredulous scowl. "You haven't forgotten which way the sun rises, have you?" her tone was pointed.

"Even in the fifteen hundreds we were enlightened enough to know that the sun came up in the east, Victoria."

She hated it when he called her that. He knew it, too. "And East happens to be the direction of Wales," she reminded him. "Unless you're planning on going the long way around," which she doubted. "Can't you just fax over what Coreen found?"

"If it were anyone else asking for my help, I would say yes," he told her in a tone sincere enough that she her stopped rubbing her temples and looked up at him. "Jack is important to me, Vickie."

"He must be some kind of special for you to risk going into another vampire's territory. Assuming one of you lives in Cardiff."

"Yes. And yes, he's 'some kind of special.'" Henry's smile was impossible to read. "We were lovers. A long time ago."

"Lovers?" she put her glasses back on so she could actually see him clearly.

He flashed a smirk, "Does that bother you?"

She gave him a look; she'd seen Henry with men before, but as far as she knew that had more to do with feeding than feelings. The way Henry had said 'lovers', however, she was left with no other conclusion but that there were feelings involved. Pretty intense feelings at that. "What bothers me is that you're willing to drop everything and fly half way around the world for some old boyfriend." Some old boyfriend she wasn't sure Henry could trust.

In Vickie's experience when intense feelings involved there wasn't usually a whole lot of common sense, which would explain Henry's sudden decision to fly to Cardiff.

"I'd do the same for you, you know," he surprised her by saying.

She blinked. "I rank up there with 'special'?" she was mostly teasing.

He gave her a warm, slightly amused seeming smile, but there was no less sincerity in his tone than there had been a moment ago: "You rank up there with very special, Vickie. And Jack more than some 'old boyfriend.' I asked him to stay with me. I loved him."

She decided to ignore the implication of that statement. "You still love him," she said instead. She supposed she didn't mean to make that sound like an accusation. She had no claims on Henry; she didn't want any.

"I still love him," he conceded. "But we've both moved on. Besides, he turned me down, anyway."

She leant forward, resting her chin on her knuckles, her elbows propped up on her desk. "This I've _gotta_ hear."

Henry chuckled, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's not a very interesting story. I asked him to stay with me and he said he couldn't, so we went our separate ways. There was a war on. World War Two," he clarified, wondering briefly what Vickie was going to think when she actually met Jack.

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "It probably wasn't easy to think about you staying young and… " she wasn't about to say 'gorgeous', Henry had enough of an ego as it was. It didn't matter; he smiled as if she had said the word. Vickie cleared her throat.

Henry just chuckled some more. "Like I said, it was a long time ago. All that matters is that he needs my help. And I need yours."

"You want me to come with you." It wasn't really a question.

"I may need your help with whatever his partner's brother has gotten mixed up in… " Henry hesitated a moment, breaking eye contact briefly. "I need to ask you for something else. I want you to know that I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to. You can say no." His tone suggested that he might prefer it if she did.

"All right. Ask."

"Under other circumstances, I would ask Jack to accommodate certain… needs, because if I go hunting in another vampire's territory it could cause problems," he explained. "It's going to be difficult enough being in another vampire's city as it is. I don't need to add to it by poaching on his hunting ground."

"So you need… oh." She paled a little as his meaning became clear. She didn't mind accommodating him so much as she knew how Henry felt about feeding from her. It was too intimate an experience, he'd explained once, and seeing as she had made her stance on intimacy between them _quite _clear… "Of course I'll let you… you know."

"Vickie, I wouldn't ask if there was any other way and I still intend to broach the subject with Jack. But I saw the way his partner looked at me the other night. I don't want to get in between them even if it's just for… necessities."

"So just out of curiosity, you're not the least bit jealous of this mere mortal who stole your lover?" she wanted to know.

He shrugged. "Why should I be? Jack and I could still have someday but all his partner has is today. Tomorrow. Another decade, maybe two. Human life is fragile. Short. I wouldn't begrudge anyone that kind of happiness that love can bring, even a 'mere mortal'."

She gave him an inquisitive look.

"Jack's secrets are his own," he answered to her unspoken query. "I can't say I understand them myself, anyway. Even now, after everything that's happened," he added almost as an afterthought.

Henry pulled himself up out of the chair and walked over to the window, parting the blinds so he could look out at the Toronto night.

The city had been hit hard a couple of months ago, not that one could tell now just by looking at it. People were coming and going out on the street below. If he closed his eyes he could hear their voices…laughing, carrying on… some of it seemed forced, but for most people it was just another night. They were happy to be alive.

"Love is being happy the person you care about is happy whether it's with you or someone else," Henry told her, even as he glanced up at the sky, remembering that day, the day all the things Jack had said suddenly made sense.

Daleks. That's what he had been talking about that night. Something so terrifying, so inhuman… _We were safe and secure here on this little blue planet, content in our ignorance, just like he said. _Humankind was only just beginning to realize how insignificant it really was… _Where does that leave my kind, I wonder,_ Henry mused, not for the first time. Where would he be in three thousand years when Jack was being born… ?

The warmth of Vickie's hand on his arm made him turn around again. He flashed her a thin smile he was sure she couldn't read.

Henry had never known fear like he'd know it the day the Daleks invaded Earth; realizing that they were what Jack had been talking about only made it worse because he'd remembered the sound of Jack's voice when he'd talked about them. Fear. Hatred.

Humans weren't alone in the Universe, not any more, and even existing for four and a half centuries wasn't enough to prepare him for coming face to face with aliens he couldn't touch, couldn't kill, couldn't dominate into submission. Things without heartbeats… without souls…

"Henry?" Vickie's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts.

"Jack Harkness is one of the most amazing people I've ever met, Vickie. There is _nothing_ I wouldn't do for him. It's the _least_ he deserves."

……………………………………………………………

_**Cardiff, Wales; Present Timeline.**_.._(in the coffee shop where we left off last chapter)_

"Vickie, can I get you anything?" Henry asked before sitting down.

"I've got it," Ianto volunteered quickly. "You and Miss Nelson are our guests," he added with what he hoped was a polite smile in the other man's direction.

Vampire.

Duke.

Earl.

Almost Crown-Prince of England.

Ianto had written a paper on Henry Fitzroy once in school, for a history class. And now here he was, having coffee with the son of Henry the Eigh himselft…

How was he supposed to feel secure? Jack was all bright smiles and dimples over there. Henry was no better, glancing at Jack out of the corner of his eye as if no one noticed… _least of all me,_ Ianto thought, but he _**did**_ notice.

Henry inclined his head slightly to Ianto's offer of fetching the coffee.

_That's me,_ the Welshman thought. _The tea-boy… _"Miss Nelson?" He inquired politely, his tone never betraying the soreness of his heart.

Vickie looked from Henry to Ianto and then back again before saying that a plain coffee would be great. She didn't look comfortable, either.

"Cream and sugar?" Ianto asked her.

"Just sugar. Thanks," she flashed him half a sympathetic looking smile in Ianto's direction.

"Henry?" he queried, just to be polite. It was strange addressing someone like him by his first name. Surly the man had to prefer _some _sort of title…? He would feel so much more comfortable if he did.

"I'm fine, thank you," said Henry. He oozed politeness in a way that irritated the younger man even though usually it was rude behaviour that annoyed him. Maybe if Henry was just a little less perfect he would be bearable… but he wasn't.

He was four hundred and seventy five years old, immortal, ageless and completely gorgeous.

So _of course_ _he has to be polite, too,_ Ianto though acerbically. _And being a vampire, I'll be he doesn't snore or leave his dirty socks laying around, either._

He nodded to acknowledge Henry's statement and forced himself to take a casual pace up to the counter to get Vickie's coffee. He forced himself not to think about the way Jack and Henry were looking at each other; he forced himself not to turn around and watch them like the jealous husband he knew he was being.

He tried not to think about Henry and Jack in bed together even if it had been almost eighty years ago.

He forced a smile at the girl behind the counter when she handed him the coffee and walked back to the table to find Jack, Henry and Vickie engaged in what sounded like meaningless small talk. It didn't make him feel any better.

"Miss Nelson," Ianto handed her the cup and slid in next to her, as Henry had taken up the chair next to Jack.

Ianto had been sitting across from Jack when Henry and Vickie came in, so it was only natural that Henry would sit facing Vickie. But he _could_ have let her take the chair next to Jack's instead of claiming that spot for himself.

Ianto caught himself thinking about the way Jack's hand always wandered onto his thigh when they sat next to each other like Henry and Jack were now. He doubted he was the first man Jack had ever done that to…

He gave himself a good mental shake. Jack had never, _ever_, given him any reason to doubt he was anything less than one hundred percent faithful. _Besides, what I __**should**__ be worried about is Dafydd, not my husband and his four hundred and seventy five ex boyfriend, the Crown Prince of England who just so happens to be bloody __**perfect**__. _

The Welshman looked across the table to his partner and flashed a quiet, almost shy little smile. He just needed _something_, some kind of sign, anything he could use to convince himself that he had nothing to worry about.

_He married __**me**__,_ Ianto reminded himself. _He knew where Henry was this whole time and he chose __**me**__._ That _had_ to mean everything it seemed like it did… didn't it?

Just then Jack reached across the table and took Ianto's hands into his giving him a look that left no room to doubt where his heart was.

It wasn't with Henry Fitzroy.

Ianto's smile warmed.

"So Henry tells me your brother's gotten himself mixed up in something occult?" Vickie's no nonsense tone was almost as reassuring as Jack's expression.

"It would seem so, yes," reluctantly, the Welshman pulled his hands free. It wouldn't do to have this sort of conversation holding hands across the table like a couple of starry eyed teenagers.

Ianto cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "From what Gwen – one of our co-workers," he explained briefly, glancing up at Henry and then Vickie, "and I were able to put together, Dafydd's grades had been dropping the last couple of years. Then last year he dropped out of University all together." _'You're not the only tosser in the family,'_ that statement from his younger brother still rankled Ianto. If they only knew… but they didn't. He didn't want them to. Not really. There were just days that he wanted to shove Cade into a wall…

"Where was your brother going to school?" Vickie inquired.

"Cardiff University," said Ianto. "That's right here in town," he glanced down into his almost empty cup. Under the table, he felt Jack's boot tap the side of his foot. No matter what, he could get through this. He wasn't alone.

He gave Jack another warm smile before continuing, "I talked to some of Dafydd's teaches. Most of them barely remembered him. One, however, gave us this," he slid over the flier his brother's psychology professor had given him; it was printed up on a thin sheet of dreadful 'copier green' paper. "Erm… sorry, it's in Welsh," he added apologetically to the confused look on Vickie's face. There were a lot of people from other parts of the world who didn't realize Wales had its own language.

Henry took the flier from her, his brows furrowing slightly as he glanced over the sheet.

Ianto shot him a questioning look.

"Considering who my father was, it would be irresponsible of me _not_ to read Welsh, Mr. Jones," he said with an easy smile, speaking flawlessly in the language in question.

The younger man felt a wave of heat overtake his cheeks. "Of course…I should have realized."

For his part, the former almost-Crown Prince merely continued smiling. It wasn't at all an unkind smile.

"So what is it?" Vickie asked of the flier.

Henry's smile faded. "It seems as if the younger Mr. Jones has gotten himself involved with some sort of 'ghost hunting' club," he spoke the last with distain.

Vickie groaned. "You've _got_ to be kidding me. You mean these kids don't have anything better to do with their time?"

"Apparently not," said Ianto, deadpan.

"I think I'd like to take a look at those two crime scenes if you don't mind," Henry addressed the question mostly to Jack.

"The SUV's parked around the corner. I'll pick you kids – and you too," he winked at Henry, "up at the door."

"I'd like to walk with you, if I may," Henry stood up with Jack. "If you don't mind…?" he added in Ianto's direction.

"Of course not," he knew it was a lie, but how could he say no?

Jack leant down and brushed his lips gently across the younger man's forehead. "We'll just be a few minutes," he promised.

Ianto nodded and watched them make their exit. He felt certain now that he could trust Jack, but what about Henry… his gut tightened at the thought. _But Jack trusts him,_ Ianto reminded himself.

"Well they make quiet a pair," Vickie observed, draining the last of her cup.

"Tell me about it."

……………………………………………………………………..

Jack waited until he and Henry put several paces between themselves and the coffee shop to ask the other man what was on his mind.

"I'm afraid it's a bit of a delicate topic…" he began cautiously. There was no doubt in his mind how much his presence disturbed Jack's partner, but he couldn't go hunting in another's territory. With any luck he and Vickie would be gone before whoever hunted here even realized there had been another vampire in the city. Vickie was right; there were very few people he'd take that kind of risk for.

"Let me talk to him," said Jack, understanding what Henry wasn't quite saying aloud.

"I don't want to become a wedge between you and your partner, Jack. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you. Either of you."

"I won't let it come to that."


	17. Chapter 17

Thank you again for all the great reviews!! They always mean so much, but right now especially, it is SO appreciated! (And yay, I saw this got added to another C2 community! I can't wait to check it out... Janto and Puppies ;-)

Thanks, too, to everyone who has favourited/alerted this. It means a lot to me, too. I appreciate everyone... ok, yeah, gushing. Sorry. It's been a week and you guys have made my day on several occasions, so thank you and on with the show!

Helen

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Introspection and Investigation**

……………………………………………………………**..**

"You have a computer terminal _built in _to your SUV?" Vickie couldn't help the incredulousness of her tone.

Ianto gave over a modest smile rather than bragging about what else they had in the SUV; he helped her settle into place behind the terminal and hit the Internet icon. It only took a second for the connection to be made. "I've already favourited the website the 'ghost hunters' created," he told her smoothly. "It's not much more than a vlog of their activities, but you might find it useful." What he really hoped was that she and Henry would catch something they'd missed. This sort of thing was beyond the average Torchwood Three employee's realm of experience and Liz - who was well versed in the occult - was still in Brazil at some conference.

He watched Vickie grimace as she got to the first video web log he'd marked; her opinion of Dafydd and his friends' choice of pass times was obvious. Ianto didn't blame her. There were enough bad things in the world that one didn't have to go looking for them.

Henry, who had been riding in the passenger seat when they pulled up, got out and slid into the back next to Vickie, giving Ianto a look the younger man couldn't interpret.

What he really wanted to know was what Henry had needed to talk to Jack about that he couldn't say in front of he or Vickie… _and_ he realized Jack was waiting for him to get in so they could get going.

Ianto stole a glance in the older man's direction as he slid into the passenger side of the SUV, but he couldn't tell from Jack's expression or body language what was going on between him and Henry.

"Have you been able to track any of these people down?" Vickie asked then from the back; she'd accessed the 'profiles' page and was reading the bios the self-professed ghost hunters had posted for themselves. Of course none of them had left any helpful information like a telephone number or address. They didn't even have a post office box, just email addresses and screen names. Some days Vickie hated the computer age; it was too easy for people to be anonymous.

"The only one we know where to find is the dead girl in our morgue," Jack answered her query in a cold tone. "Her name was Anne St. Claire. Her parents had reported her missing almost two months ago."

Gwen had spent a whole night going through missing person's reports to put a name to the girl they'd found in the warehouse; it was only today, when they got the information that lead them to the ghost hunters' web log, that they had made a connection between Anne and Dafydd.

"She was twenty three," Jack added. He was holding off notifying the St. Claires until the situation was resolved.

Vickie shook her head; Jack suspected she'd seen her fair share of dead kids when she was a homicide detective in Toronto but he doubted that made it any easier. It wasn't easy for him and he'd lived through two World Wars, one of them twice.

"Anne went to the same university as Ianto's brother," he continued, "but they didn't have any of the same classes. We haven't had a chance to talk to any of her friends yet, but none of Dafydd's friends," _(all three of them), _"know anything about her – or this ghost hunting business."

"My brother was never exactly outgoing, but lately it seems as if he's shutting everyone out. At first I thought it was just family, some sort of rebellion, but now it seems like there's more to it than that." His little brother had turned into a stranger and he hated it. _Or maybe I'm the one who's turned into the stranger,_ Ianto thought glumly. Torchwood ate up nearly every waking moment of his life and had done for the last six years.

What little time Torchwood didn't take up, he devoted to Jack and _his_ family; even so he felt like he didn't spend enough time at home. Neither of them did.

There was a reason Torchwood employees didn't have lives outside work. It wasn't just the current team; Ianto had been through the archives. They _all_ died young. Ninety percent of Torchwood Three never been married, never had children. Never had a life. He glanced over at Jack, but his partner was too busy paying attention to the road to notice.

He cleared his throat. "The other girl on the web page is Marisol Rosian, Dafydd's girlfriend," Ianto forced himself to remain focused on the situation at hand. "Marisol wasn't at Dafydd's apartment when we searched it and my sister doesn't remember seeing her much the last couple of weeks. I've been trying to reach Marisol's parents, but they haven't returned my calls."

Vickie's brows furrowed but she didn't say anything. She returned her attention to the computer screen.

The video quality was poor; the lighting and sound were bad. The latter came and went to the point that it was hard to make out half of what they were saying, even when they were speaking in English. Brazen stupidity, however, came across despite the language barrier.

………………………………………………………………..

Vickie shot Henry an inquisitive look when Jack lifted up the bright yellow police tape for them to cross under. She was relatively certain that 'police line do not cross' meant the same thing in Wales as it did in Canada.It was one thing for her to bend the rules a little back home, but she didn't need to get arrested in a foreign country. Amongst other things, Mike Celluci, her former partner at the Toronto PD, would never let her live it down if she was.

To her silent query, however, Henry just shot another one of those enigmatic little smiles. He seemed to be wearing that particular expression a lot lately, ever since he'd first brought up the subject of Captain Jack Harkness – a man he claimed to have been with during World War Two, but who didn't look a day over thirty five. Although Vickie had to admit that the Captain certainly _looked _the part of the 'dashing' American Air Force Captain, from the RAF Greatcoat down to his bright blue eyes and dimples. The only thing that didn't fit the stereo type he seemed to be trying to project was the cute Welsh husband in the impeccable suit… then again, if dashing American fly boys were gay, maybe men like Ianto Jones would make the perfect husbands…

"What do we tell the police if they show up?" Vickie asked aloud, deciding that that was more important than Jack and his dimples.

Jack flashed a mischievous grin, "I can handle a couple of police constables." His eyebrows shot up suggestively.

"_Just_ a couple?" Henry quipped at him. "Don't tell me you're losing your touch in your old age."

Jack smirked, "Maybe you'd like to find out first hand whether or not I've lost my… _technique_."

Ianto rolled his eyes. Vickie was about to ask him if Jack was always like this but then she realized by his exasperated expression that she didn't need to ask. He was.

She also realized that all three of them were waiting for her to go first. It made Vickie regret all those times she'd gotten irritated at Mike and wished she could meet just _one_ real gentleman. It was annoying having not one, but three of them, opening doors and holding police tape up for her as if she weren't completely capable of breaking the law on her own.

"It's all right," Ianto assured her in the calm tone that she took to be his usual tone of voice. Unfortunately his explanation didn't help. "Torchwood," he said with a shrug as if it told her everything she needed to know.

Vickie glanced at Henry again but he just gave her another one of those smiles and turned to Jack. "So I finally get to see what this Torchwood of yours is all about?"

Jack didn't seem to appreciate his glib tone. "It's not what it was sixty years ago or even ten years ago, Henry. I told you what they would have done with you back then. I wasn't kidding." His tone sent a chill down Vickie's spine. "Miss Nelson…?" He gestured for her to go first.

She slipped under the tape; Ianto followed, then Henry and then Jack.

Vickie spared just a second to ponder what it had been like when Jack and Henry were an item; clearly neither Jack nor Henry were used to taking a background role in anything and they were both used to being in charge and giving orders. Both were obviously used to having those orders followed.

_They either did a whole lot of compromising or… _she almost blushed thinking about Jack and Henry and make-up sex. It wasn't the sort of place her mind usually wandered but half an hour with Jack was all it took to convince her that he was even more sexually driven then Henry.

It was a different sort of sexuality, a different flavour, more in one's face than the Henry and his smooth seductions, but it no less attractive. (In some ways for Vickie it was _more_ attractive. The boy next door had always been more her type. Or maybe it was just his brand of aftershave…)

She glanced up at Jack again, thinking about the succubus she and Henry had run into a few months ago… _That would certainly explain how he could eighty years old and still look so young, _she thought. But Henry wouldn't abide having a demon as a lover. Would he? As demons went, succubi didn't seem all that bad, not if Emmanuel was any example. His worst crime was helping a bunch of bored housewives commit adultery.

Could Henry feed from a succubus? she wondered. Vickie knew that 'lover' was really just polite way of saying 'regular meal provider' where Henry was concerned. She'd seen him in action and doubted that any of his meals ever minded; most of them came back for more as far as she knew. _Why not, he's had four centuries to perfect his techniques… _

She would probably have allowed herself to succumb to those charms too if she could stand the thought of growing older and blinder while Henry remained the young, gorgeous and healthy. It was bad enough that the mere mortals in her life were constant reminders of why she'd had to quit the police force. _Retinitus pigmentosa_. A fluke of genetics. Fancy words for take a desk job or quit.

She pulled her mind back to where it belonged.

The yard was poorly lit, making it difficult for her to see, but Henry stayed close by her side without making a show of helping her find her way in dark. Vickie doubted he would have told Jack her secrets any more than he would tell her Jack's. All things considered, it was probably fair. She still wasn't sure why Henry trusted the guy, but he did. For the time being that was going to have to be good enough; it was all she had.

Henry stopped in between a couple of buildings and knelt down, examining a large dark spot on the pavement. "I doubt you need me to tell you this is human blood," he said, glancing up at Jack.

"No. According to our medic, Anne St. Clarie was killed here and then moved to where we found her with her liver and heart removed."

"Cannibals?" Vickie queried, missing the way the Welshman paled slightly.

Henry heard slight elevation of his heart rate, but didn't comment. "Doubtful," he said to Vickie. "Killing for cannibalistic reasons isn't usually accompanied by the kinds of ritual involved here."

"Care to finally fill me in?" Jack queried.

Henry stood back up. "The first set of symbols, at the other site, were for protection – don't know from what," he added before the Captain could ask. "Probably something demonic."

"What about the thing we were chasing?" asked Ianto.

"I'm not sure." Henry admitted. "It might have been demonic or… alien."

"_Alien?"_ Vickie looked from Henry to Jack and Ianto and back again.

"That's what we do," the Welshman supplied in a calm tone. "We hunt aliens."

"You hunt… _aliens_…?" she shot an accusatory glare at Henry who just gave her that same smile. Clearly he'd known all along what they were getting into and had chosen to withhold certain information.

"We're not here looking for aliens, Vickie," Henry told her in a smooth tone she supposed was intended to make her feel better. It didn't.

"Aliens." Vickie repeated, letting it be a question this time.

"Cardiff sits on a rift through time and space... " Jack began.

"Never mind," Vickie held up her hands to stop him. "Demons and vampires are weird enough for me, I don't need to add aliens to my resume." If there were any little green men running around Toronto they could be somebody else's problem.

Henry chuckled. "At any rate, I doubt the blood on the walls at the first scene came from anyone who had been murdered. I think it was the blood of the participants in the ritual. I'd still like to see the site myself, of course," he looked to Jack, who nodded in agreement. Henry continued: "What you found here, however, is considerably more nefarious. I think someone was trying to call something, some sort of demon."

Ianto nodded. That much was hardly news; whatever Dafydd and his friends were up to, it wasn't good, he knew that. "The building is this way…"

Henry caught his arm, "None of this means that your brother is involved in murder, Ianto. There could be two groups at work here."

"I saw him kneeling right there, almost where you were a second ago," the younger man's tone was cool, impassive, but he wasn't fooling anyone, not even Vickie with her limited sight and human senses. "It was his friend who was murdered and he ran away as soon as he saw me. He kept running after he recognized me and he hasn't surfaced in nearly three days."

"Maybe he's afraid _you're_ involved," Vickie suggested.

Ianto merely nodded again, anything was possible, and continued to lead the way.

He opened the door to the warehouse and allowed the others to precede him in. It didn't escape his notice that the darker it got, the closer to Vickie Henry hovered.

_Retinitus Pigmentosa_. It was in her medical records; he'd accessed them after reading her employment record and discovering she'd resigned from the Toronto PD over 'medical reasons.' He doubted she wanted to make her condition public knowledge, however, so he hadn't told Jack. He supposed he should, but it was her business and after meeting Vickie it became clear that she wasn't the sort of woman who would appreciate any sort of sympathy, even most well intentioned kind.

That and Jack would _completely _over react, just like he had with Gwen. Pulling her out of the field was one thing, but she was more than capable of interviewing a couple of college professors. If they'd done it sooner, they might have more answers now, instead of just a lot of questions.

Ianto flicked on a torch and held it for Vickie; the air inside the warehouse was dank. Heavy. The shadows seemed darker in here than they had outside and he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that settled over him as they prowled through the warehouse, even though he was determined not to let it show. It wasn't just that Dafydd was involved in whatever was going on here, something about the whole place just _felt_ wrong.

The Welshman jumped when he felt a hand land on his shoulder; the touch conjured up all kinds of dark, bloody images in his head, even though he recognized Jack's scent immediately. Usually Jack's touch made him feel at ease, happy; usually having Jack near brought on a sense of security and warmth. At the moment, however, there didn't seem to be anything that could break the foreboding that had wrapped itself around his gut and refused to let go.

"You ok?" the Captain asked him.

"Yup. Fine." It was a lie and they both knew it.

"Why don't you step outside and get a little air?"

Ianto was about to protest, but then nodded; they didn't need him here and he really could do with a bit of air. "Thank you."

"Keep your com open."

The Welshman chuckled despite the growing sense of unease tightening in his gut, "Yes, Sir."

Jack flashed him a smile in return and spared a few moments to watch his exit, admiring the view, before turning back to Henry.

.

* * *

**A/N... **now we all know what happens in a horror movie when characters seperate, don't we...??


	18. Chapter 18

Thank you again for the reviews!

**Chapter Eighteen: Missing in Action**

……………………………………………………………**..**

Ianto took a big gulp of night air. It was unseasonably chilly but the coolness of the breeze felt good against his skin.

He glanced over his shoulder at the warehouse, hoping Jack and the others wouldn't be much longer. Everything in his gut told him he didn't want to be here. Not that Ianto was prone to allowing himself to be directed by irrational fear; if he were, he doubted he would have lasted long in this line of work. Everything they did was frightening on one level or another.

Which was why he was paying attention to his surroundings. He was listening to the sounds, watching the shadows.

His com was open, as requested.

He still didn't hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late, even to call for help…

…………………………………………………………

As soon as they walked out of the warehouse, Jack knew something was wrong. Ianto should be here. _Right_ here. He wouldn't go wandering off, it wasn't like him… well, maybe it was, but he wouldn't wander off without telling somebody.

Seeing the growing concern on the Captain's face, Henry shot him a questioning look.

Jack ignored it and tapped his com. "Ianto?"

No answer.

"_Ianto?" _

Still no answer.

"Ok, Mr. Jones-Harkness, this isn't funny," he tried to turn his escalating panic into a joke. "I need to hear those beautiful Welsh vowels of yours. _**Now."**_ _Please…_

The com remained silent for several long heartbreaking moments.

Worse than the silence, however, was the noise that followed. The com hissed and crackled in Jack's ear. Then there was a loud crunch and nothing but static over the channel.

"Jack?" Henry asked him.

"I think…" he took a breath, doing what little he could to resist the urge to blame himself. "I think someone – or some_**thing**_ – just broke his earpiece." He fought off the wave of nausea and blind panic about as successfully as he fought the self-recrimination. None of it was useful, but all he could do was stand a moment, absorbing the facts, refusing to believe that his Welshman might be…

Henry's hand on his arm was the only thing that steadied Jack.

And in an instant Henry was gone, leaving him standing alone in the night again, but for the blond woman a few paces from him. He looked at her, trying to digest everything that had happened in the last sixty seconds…

"He does that to me all the time," Vickie explained with a wry grimace. "Preternatural speed is a part of that whole being a vampire thing."

Jack swallowed. He'd never seen Henry in action, at least not this kind of action. Dumbly, he nodded, feeling as if the whole world was falling apart around him and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"If he's still here, Henry will find him, Jack," Vickie's calm voice did little to make him feel any better; he'd been the one to suggest Ianto get some fresh air. It was _his_ fault he was gone….

He pulled out his mobile phone and called Wendy and Bobby first, then Mickey, and finally Gwen. The message was the same each time: _Ianto's missing, get to the Hub. Start doing anything you can think of to locate him._

………………………………………………..

Ianto became aware of several things at once, the most disconcerting of which was that his hands were tied in an uncomfortable position behind his back. _Then again I'm still alive to complain, that's something,_ he told himself. He wasn't particularly reassured by the thought.

He didn't know what whoever had tied him up had used to knock him out, but his mouth felt like it was packed with cotton even though it was not, in fact, packed with anything. That meant that whoever had knocked him out and tied him up either didn't expect him to yell – which was doubtful – or they didn't expect him to be heard if he _did_ yell. He doubted that that was a good sign.

"He's awake," said a male voice. It was familiar in a vague and hazy way, like someone he'd heard speaking once or twice, but he couldn't place where.

Silently Ianto cursed; he'd hoped that they'd think he was out a little longer to give him more time to assess his situation and maybe come up with some kind of plan of escape.

He opened his eyes; the room was dark and his vision a little cloudy, probably more after effects from whatever they'd used to knock him unconscious. The light headedness he was feeling was probably a side effect, too. He hoped.

Hands took him by the shoulders and brought him into a sitting position, his back propped up against a rough wooden wall. Ianto didn't struggle. His heart was pounding in his ears and all he could think about were cannibals but he forced himself to be still, at least until someone started brandishing a meat cleaver. _Then_ he could panic. Until then, he had to keep his mind focused, gather as many clues about who these people were as he could and stay alert for _any_ chance of escape they gave him.

He blinked several times, trying to get his vision to focus.

"Give it a few minutes to wear off," said a voice he recognized. The sound of it stopped his heart for just an instant.

"Dafydd." It wasn't even a question. He knew his brother's voice. He closed his eyes again. Aliens and cannibals were one thing – two things actually, some analytical part of his mind reminded him – but his brother… _have we really become strangers to the point where he views me as the enemy? _

"Here," something cool pressed against his lips. A glass. "It's only water," Dafydd said when it was clear that Ianto wasn't going to drink. "Come on, I know what that stuff does," he moved his hand behind Ianto's head in the effort to coax him into accepting the water.

The older Jones opened his eyes; the world was slightly more focused this time, but what he saw wasn't making much sense.

"If he doesn't want it, let him suffer," said the first male in a gruff tone. "You shouldn't have brought him here anyway."

"He's my brother…"

"He's one of them."

"You don't know that Tom," Dafydd's tone was heavy with what Ianto took as desperation.

He stole a moment to gather in his surroundings as best as he could; the room was dark, lit only by a few candles and oil lamps. The air was heavy with something… a scent… incense?

There was a fourth party in the room. He was sitting in the opposite corner, a laptop computer perched on his knees. He seemed completely absorbed in the screen… Ianto realized he couldn't even say for sure that the person was male, he was just making assumptions based on the jeans, the thickness of the legs, the work boots… but it could be a woman.

Dafydd was looking at him again; his expression was difficult to read, but Ianto was sure he could see the distress in younger brother's blood shot dark-encircled eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He hadn't shaved in some while either, and if his clothes were any indication he had been living out of the duffle bag someone (probably Dafydd) had put under his head while he was unconscious.

With some trepidation, Ianto took a swallow of the water his younger brother was still offering; relief flooded Dafydd's face when he took it, as if somehow he felt Ianto was forgiving him, just a little bit, for the obvious betrayal of family trust.

Ianto would have liked to have told him that he was in no way forgiving him for this, but the truth was that he knew he would. As long as Dafydd hadn't killed that girl, even if he was involved with the people who had, he knew he would forgive his younger brother for anything. Everything.

_Just like Jack…_ the thought hit him hard. Jack must be out of his mind by now… Ianto swallowed, trying to clear his throat of the lump that had formed there when he caught himself wondering if he would ever see Jack again.

"Who were those people you were with?" Dafydd asked him.

"You were at my wedding, Dafydd," Ianto said in the calmest voice he could muster. "You know who Jack is. Where are we?"

"In a church," said Tom, his tone snide. He didn't look in any better shape than Dafydd. He clearly hadn't slept in a long time, he was thin, his clothes rumpled. If Ianto had passed him on the street, he would have assumed he was a junkie strung out on something.

He came over to glare at Ianto over Dafydd's shoulder, his expression menacing. Or at least Ianto presumed that was the intent. Truth was that while he was scared he had to remind himself that he faced down scarier things on a daily basis… _but it was the cannibals and those human butchers who nearly did me in,_ Ianto reminded himself. Sometimes regular human psychopaths were more dangerous than aliens.

"Your friends can't help you here," Tom sneered at him, his tone as dark as his expression.

_Tom… Tom Maddox_, Ianto recognized him from the ghost hunters web site. He was the producer of the 'show', if one could really call it that.

"Who were the other two people with you?" Dafydd asked, his tone decidedly not menacing.

"Vickie Nelson and Henry… Fitzroy," Ianto tried not to hesitate. Dafydd would probably assume it was just a coincidence, like he had the first time he'd seen Henry's name.

Remembering the incident, that package that had come for Jack from Toronto, it made him miss his Captain all the more and that made his gut churn with need… pain… He had to find some way out of this. He wasn't ready to leave Jack, not yet. Not today. _Please not today… we've had so little time together, I'm not ready to leave him yet,_ he prayed silently.

"Miss Nelson is a private investigator from Toronto," Ianto continued, mostly to Tom's glare; something about him gave Ianto the impression he was close to snapping, if he hadn't done already. "Mr. Fitzroy is her business partner. He and Jack are friends." Better to stick to a simple version of the truth than to try making up some elaborate story.

"That doesn't explain what you were doing there," Dafydd and Tom said almost the same thing at the same time; the latter's tone carried considerably more threat.

"We were investigating a murder," he answered with the truth.

Dafydd frowned, "Why?"

"He's one of them," said Tom. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No," Dafydd seemed to be having a hard time believing whatever assumption Tom had made.

"So why did you bring him here?" Tom countered. "You know you it's true, you just don't want to believe it. He's one of the people who killed Anne. He probably knows where Marisol is. And even if you don't have the stomach to get the answers out of him, _**I**_ do."


	19. Chapter 19

Thank you again for the many wonderful reviews!! The irritating annoyances seem to be clearing up a little... keeping my fingers crossed that that will continue. Less stress means more time to write ;-)

Ok, I'm officially late for my class this morning because I wanted to get this posted... I supose that's bad, but I'm not sure how much I care... I promise to use the extra time to go and read the text book and then catch the last half of class. ;-)

..

**Chapter Nineteen: Guns Blazing**

……………………………………………………………**..**

"Tom…" Dafydd positioned himself protectively in between Ianto and the other man. "Think about this…"

"_**You**_ think about it," Tom cut him off. His tone was frightening reasonable (at least it scared Ianto, given what he presumed Tom had in mind when it came to getting the answers he thought he wanted.) "You told me your brother worked for the Tourist Board," he went on. "What would someone who works in a Tourist Office be doing investigating Anne's murder? What would he be doing in that part of town at all?"

Dafydd turned and looked at his brother again; Ianto didn't like what he saw in his expression. Tom's argument made too much sense to Dafydd; he didn't want to believe it, but he did, Ianto could see it in his eyes. Accusation. Fear. Dafydd seemed to be wondering the same things about Ianto that Ianto was wondering about him: _what happened to you? Have we really drifted so far apart that you're capable of something like this and I didn't know it? Which one of us is really the stranger… the monster?_

"Dafydd, listen to me," Ianto realized that the desperation in his own tone of voice was working against him. He fought to keep his tone neutral but didn't feel as if he was succeeding. "I didn't kill anybody. You _know _me. We grew up together."

Dafydd seemed to waver.

Ianto kept talking. "I wasn't always there for you and I'm sorry, but you know I'm not capable of hurting anybody."

"So why were you carrying a gun?" Tom stepped around Dafydd, showing Ianto his own sidearm.

Silently, Ianto cursed. Stealing a glance at Dafydd, it looked like his world had just fallen apart, like nothing Ianto said would be good enough.

"I don't work for the Tourist Board," he glanced at Tom before returning his gaze to his brother's face. He didn't honestly care what Tom Maddox thought of him, it was the look in his little brother's eyes that hurt. "I lied because I didn't want Mam worrying about me. And because… because no one's supposed to know about us, anyway. Dafydd, I work for Torchwood."

"Bullocks," Tom swore; he hit Ianto so hard and so fast with the butt of his own gun, he never saw the blow coming, he only felt the gush of warm red blood…

……………………………………………………………………

Under better circumstances, Henry might have made a remark about finally being allowed into Jack's 'secret clubhouse'. Under better circumstances, he definitely would have teased the Captain for calling _him_ melodramatic with the secret compartment in his bookcase; Jack was the one with the secret underground headquarters. But this was neither the time nor the place for jokes.

"I only told one of my team about you," Jack said quietly over his shoulder, although why he was trying to be quiet when an alarm sounded the instant the cog door rolled aside, Henry didn't know. It wasn't like anyone but him would have been able to hear a word Jack said over the din anyway.

"The lycanthrope," Henry surmised, grateful to Jack for stopping the noise.

"The what?" Vickie looked from one to the other and back again. "Henry…" her tone was sharp.

"I didn't tell you because it didn't seem relevant. Besides, Jack called me to ask about lycanthropes several months after we met Felicia Bannock."

"I was just under the impression that as partners, we were supposed to _share_ information," she glowered.

"I don't think there's any connection between Jack's lycanthrope and the Bannock family," he said smoothly.

Felicia Bannock was a shape shifter, a panther, but she and the others they'd found evidence of shifted from normal human to normal animal. From Jack's description,his lycanthrope didn't look anything like a normal wolf when she changed shape.

Activity in the Hub stopped when they stepped through the doors.

"Mickey Smith, Gwen Williams, Wendy Shutten, Bobby Chase – meet Vickie Nelson and Henry Fitzroy," Jack made the introductions in a brisk tone. He pulled off his coat and tossed it over the nearest sofa. "Talk to me people."

"Wendy and I have been going over the CCTV footage," Gwen spoke first, easily stepping front and centre. "We're looking for any sign of Ianto's brother or anyone else listed on that website they ran. I phoned the police and asked them to put out a bulletin. I know you don't like to involve the locals…"

Jack waved it aside. Under the circumstances, he didn't care.

"I'm still checking for any hits on credit cards, that sort of thing," Mickey told him. "So far nothing."

Bobby, who had been on the phone when they walked in, hung up and looked at Jack, "That was Tom Maddock's father," he explained. "He thinks he knows where Tom might go if he thought he was in trouble…"

"He's not the sort of parent who would call and warn his son, is he?" Henry inquired.

"Doesn't matter," Bobby gave him a smug look. "While I was on the phone, I used the computer to arrange for his phone and mobile service to go out. Just for a couple of hours," he added. "He can still drive to warn him, though…" he added.

"How…? Is that even legal?" Vickie wanted to know.

"That's not a question we ask a lot around here," Gwen told her honestly.

Jack gave a quick look around the Hub. "Mickey, Bobby, you're with me. Henry," he said the last as invitation, ignoring questioning looks his team gave one another over his change in tone.

Henry merely nodded.

Jack was turning to Vickie when Wendy spoke. "I'd like to come with you," her tone was soft.

"I'll stay," Vickie offered. "I have the feeling I'll only get in the way," she added when she saw the size of the shot guns Mickey was getting out of the armoury. The truth was that she wasn't sure she wanted to get in the middle of it.

Jack nodded, "Fine. Gwen, you two keep working on the whole occult… thing," he said for lack of a better word. "I want some answers when we get back." He grabbed up his coat and led the way back out to the SUV.

Vickie watched him go; she would have asked if he was always like this, but knew without asking that he was. _I guess it would take someone like that to have kept Henry's interest for all this time… _

Myfanwy swooped out of her alcove, circled the Hub once and then disappeared again.

Vickie opened her mouth and then closed it again. Even with her eyesight issues she recognized a pterodactyl when she saw one. Finally, she forced a tight smile in Gwen's direction. "Let me guess, this rift through time and space deposited a dinosaur on your doorstep?".

Gwen blinked, startled by Vickie's easy acceptance of the pterodactyl.

Vickie just shrugged, "I'm used weird. Admittedly this is a whole new calibre of weird," she added, looking at the Hub around her a little dubiously. She would honestly be happy to get back to Toronto after this was over. Suddenly her life didn't look so strange after all.

……………………………………………………………………

"I don't think it's broken," Dafydd said in a quiet tone, after gingerly examining Ianto's nose as he sopped up the blood with an old t-shirt from his duffle bag.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Ianto forced a tight smile, still trying to get through to his younger brother.

"He said no talking." The man who had been buried behind his computer spoke up, only for the second time. He had reacted to the word Torchwood with mixed panic and awe, but Tom had been quick to tell him to shut up, there was no way Dafydd's brother worked for Torchwood or anybody else, at least not anybody important.

"Shut up, Quinn," Dafydd told him the same thing Tom had when Quinn had started babbling about Torchwood. He spent a lot of time surfing the web, it seemed.

Quinn shut up and went back to his computer. Ianto was beginning to wonder if he was strung out on something.

He winced when Dafydd tried to rinse away the blood coming from a gagged gash along his cheek. Tom wore a ring that had caught him several times, slicing open his cheek; it wasn't the cuts that hurt so much, however, as the deep bruising underneath.

"Sorry…" Dafydd muttered when he winced a second time; he couldn't to look his brother in the eye in the eye.

Ianto reminded himself that he had suffered worse, but that didn't make it hurt any less now. "Why are you letting him do this?" he asked his younger brother.

Through the whole thing, Dafydd had just sat there. He hadn't watched but he'd heard every punch and clearly he'd been horrified by what Tom was doing. No matter how many ways the other man asked, Ianto denied any involvement in their friend's murder and he stuck by his story of working for Torchwood. He refused to say more than they were special ops, however, which had only served to fuel Tom's ire.

Finally Dafydd asked him to please give Ianto 'a break'. _Begged was more like it_, Ianto thought. He should be grateful, but mostly he felt angry. Betrayed. Guilty. _Maybe if I'd been around more, Dafydd wouldn't think I was honestly capable of hurting that girl…_ the guilt needled at him worse than anything else except for the fear he might never see Jack again… he wasn't ready to say good-bye. He wasn't ready to leave.

Tom had finally relented after a few more half-hearted punches that resulted in nothing more than Ianto saying the same things he'd been saying since it started. Tom announced he was going out for a smoke, but told Dafydd not to talk to his brother.

Dafydd had had to plead for permission to tend Ianto's wounds (because he wouldn't make a move without the other man's approval) and in what was obviously supposed to be a gesture of great humanitarianism, Tom agreed.

"Dafydd, look at me," Ianto said in the firmest tone he could muster, one he hoped would counter how much his brother seemed to fear Tom.

Dafydd gave him the same guilty look he'd worn through out Ianto's ordeal. "You don't know what we've been through, Yan. You wouldn't understand. No on would."

Ianto regarded him a moment. There was no telling how long Tom would be out of the room; he had to use what little time he had carefully and he knew it. "Tell me," he coaxed in a gentle tone, praying he could get through to Dafydd somehow. He wouldn't put murder past Tom at this point.

"It's been a nightmare, ever since we…"

The sound of splintering wood made him stop speaking.

Quinn looked up from his computer; he looked scared.

The ear splitting boom of a shoot gun discharge made both Quinn and Dafydd jump. Dafydd was the only one who looked towards his brother, as if he needed somebody to tell him what to do.

"Untie me," Ianto said in a low tone. He remembered how Jack had rescued him and the others from the cannibals and had a pretty good idea of what was going on in the other room. "Dafydd, _untie me_," he repeated in the firmest tone he could muster.

"Ianto… Tom… I… " Dafydd floundered, uncertainly playing across his features.

"If Tom isn't dead already, he will be soon," Ianto told him the truth in a cold tone. _Either that, or Jack is going to retcon him into drooling oblivion_…

There were a few moments of yelling on the other side of the door and another loud boom.

Tom burst through the door, slamming and bolting it shut behind him, a look of terror on his face. "Demons… they found us… _you_…" he glared at both Ianto and Dafydd as if he couldn't decide which one of them he was really blaming. He drew a small hunting knife from the sheath on his belt; small or not, Ianto realized it was enough to do serious damage.

But he never had the chance.

Wendy came through the door first, seven feet tall and all tooth and claw. Jack and Mickey were right behind her brandishing shotguns.

"Jack!" Ianto knew that look in the Captain's eye; if he didn't get his attention there was going to be a bloodbath and he knew it; regardless of the bruises on his face, they were really just a bunch of scared kids…

"Nobody move!" Jack barked, seemed to ignore Ianto's voice. But the Welshman knew he'd heard, he saw the relief on his Jack's face.

Pale and terrified, Dafydd backed himself up against the wall as Wendy came their way; she snarled once in Dafydd's direction before turning her attention to the elder Jones.

"I'm all right, Wen, honest," he assured her in a soft tone, letting his cheek rest against hers a moment. She pressed her cheek closer to his and it never occured to Ianto to wonder what the scene must look like from Dafydd's prospective.

Bobby and Henry were in the room a moment later and Henry had Tom up against a wall as the other man babbled incoherently about how Henry _couldn't_ be in a church, it wasn't possible he was a…

"A very religious man," Henry cut him off sharply, lifting him further off the ground, one hand gripping him by the shirt collar. His voice was low and gravelly and although Ianto couldn't see his face, his eyes were glazed over, solid black as he allowed his vampiric nature to show. "You shouldn't believe everything you read, Mr. Maddox. The wrong information could prove fatal. Jack," he glanced briefly over his shoulder, "what do you want me to do with him?"

"Just keep him there," Jack answered, glancing briefly to see that Mickey had the guy with the computer well in hand. The kid looked to frightened to think, let alone run. Dafydd wasn't going anywhere, either.

Jack touched Wendy's shoulder lightly and she moved aside to let him in. Ianto's face was all blood and bruises... he almost closed his eyes, not wanting to see it. Memories from two thousand years ago welled up to the surface for the first time in a long time... Ianto... the Master... the year that never was... losing the most important things in his life... Jack's gut heaved.

"I'm all right," Ianto told him softly.

Although his Welshman's voice brought his mind back to the present, Jack was still afraid to speak. He didn't trust himself to words just yet. He pulled out a pocket knife and freed his partner's wrists, resiting the urge to pull the younger man into his arms. He held him in his gaze instead, trying to say without words the things that didn't have words anyway... _I"m sorry... I love you... _

"Jack…" Dafydd began. "I... I'm sorry..."

The murderous glare Jack shot him made the younger Jones shrink back.

"They didn't kill that girl," Ianto told Jack, trying to explain. "They thought we did."

"That's no excuse…" Jack's tone held a bitter edge.

"Cariad," Ianto kept his voice low. "He's my little brother."

The words hit home. Jack nodded. Once. Then backed off so Bobby could look at Ianto's face.

He stalked over to Henry and Tom. "I need to know everything he knows," Jack said to Henry. "Then make him take four of these," he handed over a bottle of little white pills.

Henry accepted it without question.

"That one, too," Jack added in the direction of the man with the computer. "Mickey, bring the laptop back to the Hub with us in case there's anything useful on it."

"You got it, Boss. What about…?" Mickey nodded in Dafydd's direction.

"He's coming back to the Hub with us," he responded without looking directly at anybody. Then he walked out to the main area of the church to begin cleaning up…


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty: When the Smoke Clears**

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Ianto felt a lump forming in his throat when Jack walked away from him. He hadn't actually meant to compare Dafydd to Gray…

"Sit," Bobby ordered when he tried to get up and go after him.

Reluctantly, Ianto settled back down. Bobby used sterile pads to wipe up the rest of the blood and clean out the cuts. "It doesn't look too bad, but I swear if you keep this up, you really are going to need the number of that cosmetic surgeon I know," he said with half a small smile.

Ianto returned it as best as he could, trying to ignore the tumult of emotions churning away inside him. It felt like rats gnawing at his stomach.

He cast a quick glance at Dafydd. His brother looked too frightened to speak. Ianto doubted Wendy's glower was helping; he doubted her intention was to do anything that might make Dafydd feel any better about anything.

Dafydd might not recognize her the way she looked now, but he'd met Bobby before. He'd seen Mickey a couple of times. He knew Jack. He thought they all worked for the Tourist Board.

"What… what is… what's happening?" Dafydd managed to ask after several moments of sitting and staring, seemingly trying to piece it all together.

"After Henry… questions… your friends, they're going to forget…" Ianto did some quick calculations in his head. Four retcon pills… all at once… even if they were low dose amnesia pills, which Ianto doubted, Jack really was going to retcon them drooling oblivion. "They'll probably forget they ever knew you. It's for the best." He wasn't sure that was true, but he had to say something.

It didn't seem to help, though, Dafydd just looked more frightened.

"We're the good guys, Dafydd," Ianto tried to turn his head to look at him, but Bobby held his chin firm. Ianto sighed at him.

"Stop huffing and puffing at me," the medic ordered in a sour tone. "I'm almost done."

"We didn't kill your friend," Ianto told his brother. "We're trying to find out who did."

"What about Marisol?"

"I don't know where your girlfriend is. I'm sorry."

Across the room it looked like Henry had finished with Tom. All he had to do was tell him to swallow the pills and he did. Then Henry told him to sleep and Tom passed out.

Henry was kind enough not to let him fall over onto the floor; he propped the unconscious man up against the wall and went over to the boy with the computer. Ianto wondered briefly if either of them would remember their own names when they woke up.

Still, maybe complete amnesia was a blessing. He had no doubt that whatever they'd been through, it had been bad.

"There," Bobby announced that he was done patching up Ianto's face. "You'll want to ice that eye as soon as we get back," he said. "That might help with some of the swelling. The rest of it should go down by morning. And as usual…"

"I know. Take it easy," Ianto droned.

"I was just going to say no Weevil retrieval for a while," he shot Ianto a wry grin.

The younger man came close to returning it, but it was too hard for him to smile just then.

While Bobby packed up his kit, Ianto swivelled around so he was facing his brother. "It'll be ok," he promised the younger man.

Dafydd looked too frightened to believe him. Torn, Ianto decided to stay with Dafydd. He could talk to Jack later.

Wendy returned to her human form (which further served to frighten Ianto's brother) and pulled her clothes out of the bag on Mickey's shoulder. She got dressed quickly and she and Mickey went to help Jack with the clean up.

The Captain had already retconned the witnesses – a priest and a custodian. He'd only given them enough to remove the night's events from their memories. They did what they could to remove the evidence of their being there, but there was no covering up that something had happened. Jack would have Gwen plant a story about vandalism later. As soon as he was satisfied with the state of the building, he called for his team to make their exit and led the way to the SUV.

He still hadn't spoken directly to Ianto since his partner brought up the subject of younger brothers; he wasn't looking at him, either.

"I can get back to your place on my own," Henry offered as it was obvious they weren't all going to fit.

"You sure?" Jack asked him.

Henry just smiled. "Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about being inconspicuous, Captain. I'll probably be there before you."

Jack nodded and Henry seemed to vanish into the night once more. He wasn't sure he was going to get used to that…

And he realized the others were waiting on him before figuring out how to arrange themselves in the vehicle. Jack turned to face his partner for the first time since walking away from him earlier.

Ianto's face was a swollen patchwork of purple and blue. It forced him to remember how fragile human life really was, how fragile Ianto's life really was. _How close I come to losing you every time we go out on a mission… _

Without a word Jack handed Bobby the keys and crawled into the backseat, pulling an unresisting Ianto practically into his lap. He wrapped his arms around the younger man and held onto him as tightly as he could without hurting him.

Ianto didn't speak, he just closed his eyes and laid his head against his Captain's shoulder. For the next fifteen minutes, nothing else in the world mattered. Nothing else even existed, just the beating of Jack's heart in his ear, the warmth of his arms making him feel safe. That scent, fifty first century pheromones at their best.

The ride back to the Hub was over entirely too quickly; he could have ridden in the back seat with Jack like that all night…

"We'll catch up," Jack said softly as Bobby cut the engine, keeping his voice low only because his mouth was near Ianto's ear. He waited until the younger man had lifted his head to turn his attention to Wendy. And Dafydd. "Make sure he doesn't get into trouble until we get in," he instructed in a cold tone.

"My pleasure," Wendy's tone wasn't any warmer; she hauled Dafydd out by the collar and pushed him towards the Tourist Office door. Usually she was more mindful of the fact that even in human skin she was stronger than the average human...

Neither Mickey nor Bobby said a word; they slid out of the front seat and followed Wendy into the office.

Swallowing back his trepidation, Ianto forced himself to make eye contact with Jack. He slid off his lap so he was sitting next to him. Jack's expression was unreadable.

They spoke at nearly the same time: "I'm sorry."

Jack almost laughed; Ianto smiled.

"I should never have let you to out alone like that," Jack spoke first that time. "I'm sorry, Ianto."

"It wasn't your fault, Cariad."

The older man looked at his face, bruised and bloodied. He would never have forgiven himself if…

"I'm all right, Jack," the Welshman insisted.

"No you're not."

Ianto sighed. "I'll live." But he could see that that statement did little to make Jack feel any better. In fact, it seemed to make him feel worse. Ianto understood. He would live. Today. Tomorrow. Another few years… then he would die. Jack would live forever.

_He won't ever get to grow old with anybody. He'll stay just like this… _a few gray hairs maybe, a wrinkle or two, but he couldn't imagine that Jack would ever really grow old.

Ianto glanced out the window and studied the city for a long moment. "I'm sorry about what I said… I never meant… about Gray…" no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get a coherent sentence to come out.

"You're right," when Ianto didn't look at him right away, Jack took the younger man's hands into his. He waited until Ianto was looking at him before he continued. "Dafydd is your little brother. I promised you we'd get through this and we will."

"He's just a mixed up kid. They all are."

Jack shook his head. "Dafydd is your brother. I have to let you to forgive him the same way you let me forgive Gray. I don't have to forgive the other two."

"How much will they remember?"

"I had Henry give them four of the strongest dose amnesia pills I had."

Ianto swallowed. Drooling oblivion was no longer an exaggeration.

Jack shrugged. "I'll keep tabs on them. If they end up completely incapacitated without anybody else to take care of them, there's always room for two more on Flat Holm Island." There wasn't any compassion in Jack's tone… but at least he would make sure they were looked after properly.

Ianto nodded. Tom wouldn't have thought twice before killing him and Ianto knew it. Being mixed up wasn't an excuse for murder. "Are we all right, Jack?" he asked quietly.

"If you say we are, we are."

He smiled and leant forward; Jack met the kiss half way.

There were still things they needed to talk about, Ianto decided. Not right now, it could wait. But the last hour or so, everything that had happened with Dafydd, it had given him a lot to think about.

His life… his choices… the things that really mattered and the things that didn't matter as much as they used to, as much as he wanted them to.

Absently he rubbed his thumb across the band on his finger...


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you again, for all the lovely reviews, fav/alert listings... and for continuing to read. This has gotten a little longer than I'd intended, but I get the sense we're winding down a bit as explanations come out...

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**Chapter Twenty One: Dafydd Jones**

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True to his word, Henry was waiting with the others when Jack and Ianto came into the Hub a few minutes behind Bobby and Mickey. The latter let them know that Wendy had taken Dafydd up to the conference room, although he suspected she would rather have put him in a cell with Janet.

Ianto grimaced, but he supposed he couldn't blame her. Or Jack. He was reasonably sure his Captain wouldn't have told her no if he'd been here and Wendy had suggested it.

Jack insisted Ianto get ice for the swelling before they did anything else, however. While he went to the kitchen, Jack went to find him a clean shirt. Ianto's was covered in his own blood. Jack didn't want to admit it out loud, but he the sight of it made him sick. So did the bruising on his face. It reminded him how fragile human life really was, how one careless mistake was all it took… it reminded him of that year from two thousand years ago, the year that never was, that Ianto would never remember but he was sure he would never forget.

Jack slid up behind the younger man in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his waist. It was as unprofessional as holding him on his lap in the SUV had been, but he didn't care. Some days he needed let the lines between their working and personal relationships blur.

"One of these days you're going to give somebody a heart attack, sneaking up on them like that," Ianto teased softly, hanging onto Jack's arms as tightly as he could.

The Captain kissed his neck, although he kept it decidedly chaste. There was still work to be done tonight, but for just this brief moment he didn't want to be Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood's fearless leader, he wanted to be just plain Jack Harkness, husband and lover. "You never seem startled," he replied.

Ianto chuckled, "I'm used to it." He turned in Jack's arms and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Jack returned it carefully, so as not to hurt him. Ianto's lip was swollen, bruised. Just like the rest of his face.

Without further discussion, his Captain helped him out of his soiled shirt and into the clean one, even though he was perfectly all right to do it himself, it was just his face that had taken a beating.

"The world really won't end if you don't wear that," Jack said when he started reaching for his tie. Jack was buttoning up the shirt so Ianto could keep the icepack on his left eye; it was swollen nearly shut.

He smiled. "I suppose you're right. But if it's all the same to you, I can tuck in my own shirt, Cariad," he pulled gently away from Jack's grasp.

The older man chuckled, flashing that famous Jack Harkness smirk, "I could make it worth your while to let me dress you… although undressing you is a lot more fun."

"My point exactly," his partner's tone was dry but Jack knew him well enough to recognize that glint in his eye, a mix of mirth and mischievousness.

It meant that they were all right.

Now all he had to do was figure out some way of keeping his promise, some way of fixing things with Dafydd and whatever it was he'd gotten himself mixed up in.

…………………………………………..……………..

They found Dafydd sitting at the table in the conference room; Wendy was standing by the door, leaning up against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest, glowering in the younger Jones' direction. Her presence seemed enough to keep him scared into staying put.

Dafydd knew Wendy. He'd met her years ago, when Ianto had run away from home and taken up residence on her sofa. He'd danced with her at Ianto and Jack's wedding. He'd always liked her.

He was looking at her now like she was some kind of monster and for once, it didn't look to Ianto like she minded.

"We've got it from here," Jack said simply when he and Ianto came in.

She nodded. "I'll get some coffee going." She was the only person allowed anywhere near his coffee machine. Despite the fact that she had taught him the 'coffee magic', as Jack called it, the coffee station was still his exclusive domain – Wendy only got the coffee when Ianto was busy with something else. With a parting glare at Dafydd, she left the room.

Jack pulled out the chair next to Dafydd's and sat down, uncomfortably close to the younger man.

Ianto took up a chair opposite his brother, across the table. Too far away to be any comfort to him.

Dafydd looked from Jack to Ianto and back again; Nerys had remarked a couple of times how Ianto always seemed to follow Jack's lead. She didn't understand why. Dafydd thought he did now. Everyone here seemed to defer to him – and this wasn't a Tourist Office. Whatever it was, he was in way over his head and he knew it. "What… what are you going to do with me?" he stammered at Jack, as it was obvious his brother either couldn't – or _wouldn't _– help him now.

"I suppose that depends on you," the Captain replied in a cool tone. He stole a glance at Ianto, but if his partner objected to the way he was handling the situation so far, he gave no indication.

"What…who are you people?"

"Torchwood," Jack told him. "Outside the government, beyond the police."

Dafydd swallowed hard and glanced to his brother.

"That means no lawyers, Dafydd," Ianto stuck to pointing out the obvious. "No judge, no trial. If you want to get through this you have to work with us. We aren't the bad guys," he told him again.

"_He's_ not the bad guy," the Captain countered. "You can feel free to think of me as judge, jury and executioner."

Dafydd paled; watching Jack's expression, he didn't get the impression he was lying. Or exaggerating. "What do you want?"

Jack leant towards him. "Tell me everything. Don't leave anything out and do _not_ lie to me."

"I'll know if you do," said Henry from the doorway. They hadn't heard him come up the steps.

He turned to Jack, both his tone and expression congenial. "I hope you'll forgive the intrusion, Captain," he said, "but Vickie tells me the best lie detector she's ever met." He flashed a wicked smile at Dafydd before continuing. "I thought I would offer up my services," he favoured Jack with a very different sort of smile.

Ianto only barely remembered that if he rolled his eyes, it would hurt. The only thing missing from the room – or any room that Henry and Jack occupied for that matter – was that song from Right Said Fred. Ianto could all too easily see the two of them trying to 'out-sexy' one another, _probably while they were supposed to be on a date together,_ he thought a little acerbically.

To Henry's offer, however, the Captain merely nodded, his expression never wavering.

With another cocky little grin, Henry slipped into the chair next to Ianto, presumably so he could look Dafydd in the eye while they talked.

The younger Jones licked his lips nervously, looking from Henry to Ianto and then briefly at Jack before finally settling his gaze on his hands, which were folded on the table in front of him. "It started a couple of months ago," he said quietly. Then he cleared his throat, "Maybe… maybe it really started before that," he cast a frightened glance up at Henry. Even without understanding what he'd seen, he'd seen something truly terrifying earlier. Henry was something truly terrifying.

The Captain leant back in his chair, nodding for Dafydd to continue.

"Tom came to me last year with this idea. He said we could be like those guys on the telly. He said it would be cool. He knew this girl – Anne. She was a psychic, a medium or something, like on that show. She could talk to ghosts, you know…"

Ianto gave him a look. "Don't tell me. She said she saw dead people," he said, deadpan.

"It's true! I saw her, Yan. She would go into this trance and she could tell us things that nobody else would know. She showed us stuff. She… she taught us stuff."

"Like the tarot cards we found in your apartment?" Ianto questioned.

"You were in my flat?"

"I was worried sick about you, Dafydd, _of course_ I was in your bloody flat," despite the harshness of his words, the elder Jones' tone remained steady. Calm. "Is that what she taught you, tarot?"

"No," Dafydd broke eye contact with his brother. "Those are Marisol's," he said softly. "I haven't seen her in over a month.

"About a month ago was when Anne's parents reported her missing," Jack interjected.

"She wasn't really missing. She didn't want anybody else getting hurt, so she dropped out of sight for a while, you know. She was hiding out with Tom and Quinn and me at the church where you found us. Tom used to go there, as a kid. Father Andrew was looking out for us…"

"I just saw you a week ago…!" Ianto began.

"Mam would have killed me if I hadn't shown up," he glanced at Jack again, as if trying to reconcile the Jack he knew with the man sitting there now.

"Hiding from what?" Jack asked.

"I… I know you won't believe me when I say we were hiding from the Devil, but that's what it felt like."

"You might be surprised what I'd believe, Dafydd," Jack told him.

"What were you doing the night your brother saw you?" asked Henry.

"We hadn't seen Anne in a couple of days… I got worried."

"How did you know where to go?"

"I don't know. I just did."

Henry's eyes narrowed. He turned his attention to Jack. "He's lying." His eyes glazed black, "I can force it out of him if you want me to."

"NO! Wait," Dafydd looked desperately in Ianto's direction, but it was obvious his brother wasn't going to come to his rescue, even now. He turned to Jack and wondered if Ianto had been telling the truth when he said that Tom was dead or would be soon, if Jack would really have killed him if he'd had the chance. It was hard to imagine that the man Ianto had married was really capable of murder, but looking into those stone cold blue eyes… looking at Ianto now… nothing was what the way he thought it had been. "Please… just… give me a chance. Jack… _please!"_

The Captain nodded, once. "I'm listening."

"Anne saw stuff. She knew stuff. She said she kept seeing this place in her head – she was going to die there. She called it fate, a fixed point in time, something no one could prevent."

Only Ianto noticed Jack's almost unperceivable reaction to the words 'fixed point in time.'

"Anne said not to tell Tom."

"Why?" asked Henry, his eyes their normal brown once more.

"I don't know," Dafydd answered miserably. "I swear, I don't. I think… I'm not sure she trusted him any more. She kept a diary. I have it. In my bag. She gave it to me just before she went missing for real."

Jack nodded; he put his ear piece back in and tapped it, asking Gwen if she and Vickie would go through Dafydd's bag and find it.

"What were you doing?" Ianto asked his brother, his tone breaking just a little for the first time.

"What do you mean?"

"You were kneeling over a pool of your friend's blood, Dafydd. _What_ were you doing?"

Dafydd pulled the pendant out from under his shirt; it was a simply wrapped quartz crystal. "I was using this as a pendulum. I wanted to figure out who had killed her, but this was all I had on me. I thought… maybe her blood… maybe it could tell me something."

Jack scoffed. "Pendulums are side-show gimmicks. You always have a fifty-fifty chance of getting the answer you want."

"More things on Heaven and Earth, my friend," Henry reminded him in an even tone.

"Believe me, I've seen Heaven and Earth. And Hell," he cast a glance over at Ianto; they both had.

Jack reminded himself to tread lightly, however. Henry hadn't been kidding when he'd told Tom he was a religious man. _He_ might not believe in God and the Devil and all that, but Henry did. Ianto did. Apparently so did his brother. "What did Anne see?" he asked, trying to remain open minded. Maybe some psychics could tap into the patterns of time, if this Anne had really perceived her death as a fixed point… there was no telling what the limit of the human potential was. "What did you get yourselves mixed up in?"

"About two months ago we were investigating this old haunted house. Anne started freaking out… she just… she flipped. She said we had to get out of there. We'd barely set up our stuff… Tom pushed her to stay. We all did. It's our fault she's dead."

Jack sighed; apparently guilt ran in the family.

"We've been going over the footage on your website," Ianto told him. "I don't remember anything that looked like an old 'haunted house.'"

Dafydd shook his head. "We never aired it. After Cameron died… Cameron Harris. He was the first to bail on us. He got too freaked out by what happened that night, said he wanted out. Four weeks ago he walked out in front of a bus, drunk, the cops said. After that, Marisol took off…" he buried his face in his hands. "She left everything… she just… vanished… we thought… I thought… after I found Anne like that… I'm the one who phoned it into the police. Anonymous tip, you know, from a pay phone. I couldn't just leave her like that but I didn't know what else to do… Then you guys showed up… I thought… I don't know what I thought."

Ianto looked to Jack; he nodded. The Welshman got up and poured his brother a glass of water from a pitcher behind them. "Here," he said gently, laying his hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dafydd looked up at him with blood-shot eyes.

"It's just water," Ianto gave him half a small smile.

Dafydd almost laughed. Almost. "I'm sorry, Yan. I just wanted to talk to you… to find out what you knew, what you were doing there. I never thought Tom would…" he looked away, a fresh torrent of emotion overtaking him.

Ianto tightened his grip on his brother's shoulder. "I forgive you," he said simply.

"Where's the video footage?" Jack asked, his tone less hard-edged. He didn't forgive Dafydd, but Ianto had allowed him to forgive Grey, who had done far worse, he had to allow the younger to forgive his brother as well.

"On Quinn's computer," Dafydd met his eyes again. He took a shaky sip of water and glanced back up at his brother, accepting the tight lipped smile as encouragement. "Tom said it was our fault, we woke the thing up, we had to put it back down again. But I don't think we woke it up, I think somebody else did. It wasn't a… a demon… or whatever… that killed Anne. It was people. I think they've killed before. I started looking through old news paper stories, at the library," he explained.

Jack nodded. "Ianto, take him down to Gwen…"

Dafydd's eyes widened. "I've told you everything… you have to believe me!"

Ianto gave his brother's shoulder another gentle squeeze, "It's all right. Come on. Trust us, Dafydd. Trust _me. _It's going to be all right._" _Because Jack had said so. He gave his partner a quick glance as he got Dafydd to his feet.

Jack nodded. His face was still impassive, but his eyes told Ianto everything he needed to know. It was really going to be all right.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thank you again for the reviews. As always, they are much appreciated.**

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**Chapter Twenty Two: Storms **

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Jack couldn't help the disdainful expression that crossed his face when he returned to the Hub from his second excursion of the night to discover Ianto's brother asleep on the sofa behind Mickey's station.

This time it had been Weevil running amuck in the park that had pulled the Captain away. Much like the rift, Weevils didn't stop doing what they did_ just_ because Jack and his team were otherwise engaged with bigger problems.

Gwen had fed the younger Jones leftovers from the fridge earlier – Chinese from at least three days ago that no one else would touch. Jack remembered watching Dafydd scarffing it down like there was no tomorrow. _Probably the last time he had a real meal was Jason's party,_ he realized belatedly.

Despite his ire, Jack draped a blanket over the sleeping man's shoulders. It didn't look as if the poor kid had had a decent night's sleep in weeks.

The video on Quinn's computer had been of the same poor quality as the rest of their material, but Jack couldn't dispute the fact that there was _something _there. A shadow that didn't belong. Odd sounds that may or may not be the result of cheap equipment.

_But someone killed that girl, _he thought. Someone or some _**thing**_… that fact was real enough.

The thing Mickey and Ianto had chased down the other night was real too.

Dafydd had seen the same thing (alien or demon, Jack wasn't sure what he believed just yet.) But Dafydd had taken responsibility for the first scene they'd found, confirming Henry's suspicions that it was some sort of protection ritual.

A hand on Jack's shoulder brought him out of his thoughts. It was Henry. He gave over a tired smile; he hadn't realized how tired he felt until just then.

"Feeling sympathetic?" Henry nodded towards the sleeping Jones boy. His tone difficult to interpret.

Jack shrugged. "Just tired," he lied. It wasn't sympathy, but it might be something akin to it.

Looking around the Hub, he saw that Gwen and Mickey were still working. She was going through Anne's diary; Mickey was going over the video, trying to clean it up so they could see what had really happened.

Bobby and Wendy were asleep off another sofa, curled around each other.

Vickie was taking a break to have a cup of coffee and talk to her assistant back in Toronto, via web cam at Ianto's desk… Ianto, however, was no where to be seen.

Jack took another look around but didn't see him anywhere, not even by the coffee station.

The last time he clearly remembered seeing his Welshman was right before he'd headed out to investigate a Rift spike. (Jack's first excursion of the night.) Thankfully, the odd looking bit of 'Rift junk' that had come through didn't seem menacing. At the very least, it could wait until later.

When Jack left, Ianto had been on his way down to the Archives to research phenomena that seemed as if it might be related to what Dafydd had experienced in the so-called haunted house.

"It's nearly sunrise," said Henry.

Jack nodded. He'd offered up his old rooms to the other man earlier in the night. Henry had a hotel room, of course, but the Captain felt better with him staying at the Hub, safely underground and away from the sun. He had every confidence in Vickie (because Henry did), but this way neither of them would have to worry about Henry during the day.

He led the way to his office and then down through the hatch in the floor. "Sorry it's not much," Jack apologized when Henry reached the bottom of the ladder.

He'd moved most of his personal belongings to the house and his old bed was still in storage. All that was left in his quarters were a few odds and ends and the old sofa Ianto hated so much. Something about bachelor plaid and atrocious… he tended to tune it out when the younger man started talking interior decorating. Those were the sorts of details he'd always let his partners handle anyway.

Not that he'd actually lived with more than a couple of people besides Ianto. There was Roan. Laura.

The Doctor, he supposed, but that was entirely different. His room in the TARDIS had come furnished with the necessary comforts. He'd pulled a few things from the endless storage rooms to make it feel more like him, the person he'd been at the time, but other than that, it was a place to sleep. To read.

_**Not**__ a place to shag… _the Doctor had been painfully clear that if Jack so much as thought about getting Rose into his bed – or himself into hers – he would be dumped off on the nearest planet and the Doctor didn't care where or when or even necessarily that it had a breathable atmosphere. Jack had always presumed that last part was an exaggeration… he hoped.

"I've slept in a lot worse places," Henry was saying as he meandered around the little room. "It's not really 'sleeping' anyway."

Jack caught the other man's tone, the way he didn't quite make eye contact. They'd never discussed the finer points of Henry's existence, but Jack had done his homework. "I guess not," he answered simply.

Henry turned so he was facing Jack and regarded him a moment. "Thank you. For letting me stay here," he clarified, needlessly. "Vickie finds it difficult 'sleeping next to a corpse.'"

Jack closed the distance between them and leaned in to kiss Henry's cheek.

Henry returned it affectionately. He wrapped his arms around Jack's waist, relaxing against him with eyes closed when Jack held him in return.

"Very few people have truly accepted me as I am," he said softly. "I appreciate your friendship, Jack."

"You'll always have it. I promise."

"Thank you."

………………………………………………………………..

Jack wasn't surprised to find his Welshman in his 'garden'; the younger man was sitting on the floor writing in his diary.

Jack stood in the doorway quietly waiting until he looked up. "Hope I'm not intruding," he said when Ianto finally noticed him; he didn't venture further into the room until his partner indicated he was welcome.

"No, of course not," he smiled. He closed his diary and set it down beside him. Some of the swelling had finally subsided, but his left eye still looked bad.

"I guess I should have thought to put a chair in here or something," Jack meandered towards him, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

The younger man shrugged, "I don't mind." He nodded an invitation for Jack to join him on the floor.

As he sat, Ianto leaned towards him and Jack pulled him into his arms. _Still a perfect fit,_ he thought as they settled into each other comfortably. "You should think about getting some sleep," he said quietly after a moment. "Dafydd's out cold up in the Hub… I'm going to send the others home, too. There's not much more we can do tonight… this morning," he corrected himself.

"What about Henry?"

"I told him he could sleep on my couch. You know, the bachelor plaid."

Ianto chuckled. "Better him than me. Although I suppose the lumps in that ratty old thing won't bother him, will they?"

Jack shook his head. He reckoned this was as good a time as any to have that conversation he needed to have regarding certain necessities… He had originally told himself it would wait until later, but since Ianto had brought Henry up...

The younger man cocked his head a little, seeming to sense something was on Jack's mind, something he was clearly reluctant to discuss.

Jack smiled at how well his partner really knew him. "It's about Henry," he admitted.

"All right," Ianto straightened himself so he was facing the other man. He had the feeling this wasn't going to be a conversation he was going to enjoy.

Jack cleared his throat, lending credence to Ianto's fears. "Henry… that is… I mean… he and I… earlier… he asked me something… " he floundered. How exactly was he supposed to ask Ianto what Henry had asked him?

"As long as you're not going to tell me you're still in love with him…"

Jack shook his head quickly. "I do care about him, but I haven't been in love with in a long time."

"Then whatever it is, just tell me."

"Vampires are territorial by nature," he said. "Henry explained it as having to do with some sort of survival mechanism. It keeps them from overpopulating."

"Makes sense," the younger man agreed. It would certainly curb the urge to turn all of one's friends and lovers into vampires. _It also must make for a very lonely existence_, he realized. He hadn't stopped to think about Jack and Henry's relationship from Henry's prospective. No wonder he'd wanted Jack to stay with him.

"There's already a vampire who lives in Cardiff…"

"What?"

Jack shrugged. "Henry says so. He'd know."

"His being here isn't going to cause some sort of problem, is it?" The last thing they needed was another problem right now. It was bad enough the rift kept spitting things out and Weevils kept coming up from the sewers.

"I don't think so. But he asked me if… for the sake of keeping the peace with whoever lives here… if it would be all right if he… " he let his voice trail off when he saw the look on the younger man's face. Ianto understood exactly what he was saying. Or not saying, as the case may be.

The Welshman looked away for a brief instant, then cleared his throat and returned his gaze to Jack's face. "Of course," he said in a tone that was entirely too natural.

"Ianto…"

"You invited him here. He has to eat. He doesn't want to start a war or whatever. We certainly don't need it," his words were clipped. "So yes, of course, it's all right with me. That is what you were asking, isn't it?"

"Sweetheart, if it's going to be a problem…"

"It's fine," he didn't quite snap. He took a breath and let it out, continuing in a more reasonable tone (not that Jack believed it was at all ok.) "I would be more upset if you didn't let him… whatever. He's your friend. Your guest." _And he can feed from you without ever having to worry about hurting you…_ they would both live forever, both always be gorgeous, and Jack could supply Henry with the one thing he needed…

"This has nothing to do our past relationship."

"I know," he lied. It wasn't really a lie, he did realize that it had to do with Henry being what he was, needing what he needed to survive. Trusting Jack. Jack trusting him. Even if Henry couldn't kill him, he was sure he could hurt him. Jack trusted him not to.

"If you don't want…"

"There are only so many ways I can say yes, Jack. Please take me at my word. Yes. It's fine. I understand. I'm not upset."

"I love you," the Captain ventured, not sure if it would make any difference, but wanting to say it anyway.

Ianto paused a long moment before answering. "I love you, too."


	23. Chapter 23

_**A/N:**_

_**T**__his chapter is about how life is a balancing act between Torchwood and Home-life… I wish we would see more of this kind of thing onscreen (at least with characters other than Rhys and Gwen. Nothing against them, but… )_

_In case anyone hasn't read my __**Short Stories**__ or doesn't remember, the 'in joke' between Jack and Ianto that lends itself to the chapter title came about when Jack got something inscribed in Welsh on the back of a pendant he gave to Ianto, just before he met Ianto's family for the first time. Knowing Jack didn't speak more than a few words of Welsh, Ianto asked him why the writing said 'don't forget to empty the bins.' (The actual inscription is 'I will always love you, I will never forget you.')_

_Keeping my fingers crossed that updates will be coming for __**Short Stories**__ and __**Black Rose**__ later on this week. I just have to pass a test on Wed. and my best friend goes back to Chicago on Thurs. _

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Three: Don't Forget to Empty the Bins**

……………………………………………………………**..**

Jack tucked Ianto into bed with just enough time to slip into a clean shirt and join his mother and son for breakfast.

"You look awful," Ella greeted him, before Jason came down from his room.

Jack rested one hand on his hip as he sipped at the coffee she'd made. Ianto was teaching her. It wasn't going so well… he set the mug down on the counter. "If all I look is awful, I'm doing better than I thought," he admitted.

"That bad?"

All he could do was nod.

When he and Ianto had left the Hub, Dafydd was still sleeping. Vickie had crashed out as well, on another sofa.

Wendy was up and starting coffee for Mickey, who promised Jack he'd just be a little while longer. Jack had the feeling if he called back at noon, Mickey would still be there. Bobby, too. He and Wendy had officially volunteered to 'babysit' Ianto's little brother until Jack got back in later. He would have stayed himself, but the only way to get Ianto home to his own bed was to come himself.

Gwen had gone home, too, walking out with them just after sunrise. She'd promised to drive straight home, get something to eat and go directly to bed. She gave Jack a hard time about mollycoddling her, but stopped fighting him when he reminded her, again, that he knew what it felt like to be pregnant.

Just then Jason came bounding into the kitchen. Jack caught him before was barrelled into and hauled the laughing boy up into his arms. "Was I this energetic as a kid?" he asked his mother in between tickles and giggles.

"Oh no. Much worse."

Jack gave her a look. Just once in awhile it would be nice if his mother would lie to make him feel better, tell him what a wonderful, angelic child he'd been. Not that he'd believe her even if he did remember more of his childhood. _It would be nice to hear though,_ he thought.

"How come Ianto's not up with you?" Jason asked during a lull in the giggles.

Jack faltered. He didn't want to tell Jason anything that would frighten him… _But he's already seen so much…_ and it didn't seem right to lie to him, either. "Something happened at work last night. He's ok," he said quickly to the concerned look on his son's face. "But… I guess he's not really ok, it's just that he's going to be ok. He's sleeping now so he can get better."

He supposed he really should put more thought into deciding how he was going to handle these sorts of questions. With their work, they were likely to be more days like this. He wondered how long it would be before Jason noticed that he never seemed to get hurt.

For reasons that Jack completely failed to understand, Jason wrapped his arms around his neck and held on tight.

"Hey… he's ok," he told his son gently. "He got banged up pretty good, but it's not really as bad as it looks." He decided to change the subject. "I'll tell you what. You eat your cereal and I'll drive you into school so you don't have to take the bus today."

"But all my friends are on the bus!" Jason protested.

"Sorry, Love," Ella said to her son's crest fallen expression.

She brushed her fingers through his hair. All that time he'd spent worrying that Jason would never make friends and as soon as did, it seemed as if Jack wished he would rather stay at home. It was always that way with children, she mused, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

"All right," Jack agreed to Jason's argument. "But I get to walk you to the bus stop. Deal?"

"Deal!"

…………………………………………………………

Jack stood on the street corner after Jason had gotten onto the school bus watching it disappear down the hill. He promised himself again that he was going to look for more people, find some way to balance out his life.

All their lives.

The bus had been gone for almost five full minutes before he turned and headed back home, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. He realized there was still blood on them, it was just less noticeable than the blood on his shirt had been…

………………………………………………………….

Jack was surprised when he woke several hours later to find Ianto's side of the bed empty. By his reckoning, the younger man had been up for over twenty four hours yesterday. Looking at the clock now, he knew his partner couldn't have slept for more than six hours.

Quelling what he hoped were irrational fears, Jack pulled himself out of the tangle of covers and slipped into his pyjama bottoms. Aliens couldn't really have kidnapped his Welshman right out from under his nose while he was sleeping… could they?

But what about demons, or demonic cults or whatever it was that they were really dealing with? What were they really capable of?

As soon as he opened the bedroom door and smelled the coffee, however, Jack knew that all was right with the world.

He still took the stairs two at a time – but maybe that was just because of the amazing scent coming from the kitchen. (It smelled especially wonderful compared to the scent of scorched coffee that had permeated the house when he and Ianto had first come in.) What Jack smelled now was one of those speciality brews of his partner's. In particular, it was the one with the cinnamon that Jack loved so much.

What he didn't know was that it was the recipe Ianto had created with after he'd left to go off to the end of the Universe with the Doctor.

When he'd come up with the recipe, Ianto had needed just one good thing to hang onto, one warm, happy memory to get him through. One thing he could count on to make him feel happy. Naturally that memory had been something that reminded him of his Captain, whose scent was all heat and spice. But he would never tell that to anyone, not even Wendy.

Jack poured himself a cup of strong cinnamon and spice coffee and joined Ianto in the sitting room. The younger man was seated cross legged on the settee in his bathrobe looking at their wedding album. Something about the scene, or maybe the expression on Ianto's face, worried him.

When the Welshman noticed him he looked up and smiled; his face was black and blue and swollen, although not quite as badly as it had been six hours ago. "Morning. Well… just barely," he glanced at the clock on the wall out in the kitchen. In another five minutes it would be noon.

Jack took a seat next to him. "You're up early," he commented, unable to keep his tone from sounding guarded.

"I guess I'm getting used to needing less sleep. The hazard of living with someone like you," Ianto teased.

"Are we ok?" Jack asked suddenly; he wasn't going to ask. He was going to get through this and not push at the younger man, but he couldn't keep the question from coming out. He knew Ianto was prone to jealousy. Truth was, he found it as flattering as it was annoying. But ever since Henry's arrival (not even a day ago, admittedly), Ianto had seemed more than just jealous.

"Of course we're ok," the younger man told him. He seemed startled by the question. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Jack put down his mug and turned to face his partner. "I guess… I worry about you deciding…" he let his voice trail off as he tried to gather his thoughts up a little better before going on. He needed this to come out right. "You told me once that you were afraid I'd want more. Out of this. Or… _apart_ from this. Outside of us." He waited for Ianto's nod, yes, he remembered making the statement. He seemed a little embarrassed by it, now, however. Jack hoped that was a good sign. "I worry about the same things you do," he said after a long moment.

"What?"

"I expect you to wake up someday and notice you've got more grey hairs than I do." _If you live that long… _"You're going to grow old in front of me instead of _with_ me. I wonder how much that's really going to bother you when it becomes obvious that only one of is looking older."

"Jack, we both know I'm not going to…"

"No we don't," Jack cut him off. He didn't want to hear Ianto say that they both knew he would never live long enough to grow old.

"Yes we do, Cariad. The chances of my living to see my thirtieth birthday are slim. I've accepted that. I've made peace with it. I've set my affairs in order so that when the time comes, the only things you're going to have to worry about are the usual things Torchwood does when one of us dies."

Jack sat open mouthed for a few moments not knowing what to say. He knew his partner tended towards the pragmatic, but…

"I bought a plot and a headstone for myself last year," Ianto told him. "I know I won't actually lie in it or anything, but I figured it would be nice for my family to have a grave site to visit. Mam's big on things like that," he explained. "The only thing you'll have to do is supply the date. You know. Of death."

Jack swallowed. "You're only twenty six."

"I know. But I know you," he flashed over half a wry little smirk. "And your organizational skills leave a lot to be desired," he teased, mostly trying to shake the mood that had settled between them. Just the same, he told Jack that Nerys knew where to find his will. "I know Torchwood takes over one's personal belongings, but I wanted to make sure that she and Remy would be all right. Financially, I mean. I don't have much, but I want them to have it. I didn't imagine you'd object," he made it sound almost like a question.

"No… no, of course not. Ianto… I had no idea…"

The younger man shrugged. "There never quite seemed to be a good moment to mention it." He swallowed the last of his own coffee.

"I know you don't want to hear this…"

Ianto shook his head knowing where Jack was going before he even started. "I couldn't sit back and watch the others go out there every day, risking their lives, Jack. The only way… the only way I could quit would be for you to retcon me into forgetting I'd ever worked for you – ever known you – and I don't want that. I love you. I want to love you for the rest of my life.

"But there _are_ some things we need to talk about… not now. I need to get through this first. It's nothing bad, I promise," he said to the concern that flickered across the older man's face. Ianto leant in and found his Captain's mouth with his lips; the other kissed him back so carefully…

"We _are_ ok, Jack," he repeated. "We would be ok even if I lived to be a hundred… in fact, I think I would get a kick out of people seeing us together and presuming that _**I**_was the dirty old man," he flashed a wicked little smile.

Jack managed a chuckle despite the knives churning in his gut. "I wish you could live to be a hundred," he said softly.

"Me too. But we both know better. I promise not be stupid, not to take unnecessary risks… to keep my com open," he added with a small smile. "Oh yes, and to empty the bins," he gave his partner's lips another warm kiss.

"Definitely never forget the bins," Jack echoed with a smile and a kiss of his own.


	24. Chapter 24

**Thank you again for the lovely reviews! **

Ok, not missing class to write today… wish me luck on my test! ;-)

Sorry if this feels a little 'meander-y'... sometimes the plot doesn't develope quite the way I plan it to, even when I've taken the time to actually plot it out carefully... the outline has gone out the window (I don't usually use them anyway, but I had that week w/o electricity whilst camping... ) Anyway, this is what the plot bunnies did to me today... hope you enjoy! --

Oh, for those that don't watch Doctor Who, that alien Bobby is autospey-ing (sp??) in the chapter is from the episode Love and Monsters... they're the resident species of Clom/Klom.

…………………………………………………………**..**

**Chapter Twenty Four: Life Goes On**

……………………………………………………………**..**

Despite Ianto's eagerness to return to the Hub, Jack took his partner back to bed and insisted that he lay down and try to get in at least a few more hours' sleep before heading into work.

Sleep came with difficulty but once it did, the Welshman slept for almost six hours.

Jack curled around him, pulling him in close and hanging on. No matter what Ianto had said, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was not going to like whatever it was the younger man wanted to talk to him about.

As soon as they got into the Hub, he decided that was going to send out some emails, contact a few old friends, get the ball rolling on hiring in some new people.

Laying there, listening to Ianto's quiet breathing, feeling him twitch as unhappy dreams invaded his sleep, unable to do anything about it, Jack started making a mental list of who he wanted to ask.

Liz… he didn't want her to come back, but she might know someone. The way things were going, he could do with someone who understood the occult. At least it would give him a different perspective on things.

Martha, of course.

Victoria. She worked at a University, maybe she knew some bright young student looking for a future in fighting aliens… he pulled Ianto closer. _Does anybody wake up one morning and decide 'I want to fight aliens for a living'? _Jack wondered. Somehow, he doubted it.

……………………………………………………………………

When they got in to work, Dafydd was awake and looking better. He'd showered and shaved; his complexion was less sallow. He'd probably eaten at least one proper meal already.

But he still looked scared.

"Mickey's run up to get us some sandwiches," Wendy greeted Ianto and Jack; to the former, she gave a small kiss on the cheek, very carefully. "Shall I give ring and ask him to double the order," she teased Jack. She'd never seen anyone scarf down an entire pizza all by himself before.

The Captain gave her a sour look (not that anyone looking could have missed his grin) and vanished into his office.

Tactfully, Wendy slipped off herself, ostensibly to go do something official, thus leaving Ianto and his brother alone in the sitting area near Gwen's station.

Wendy was well aware that her presence intimidated the younger Jones. She'd been using that fact to keep the little idiot in line all day. She knew Ianto would never do it, but she wanted to see him drag Dafydd off by one ear and…

She found Bobby buried in yet another backlog of autopsies in the medical bay and offered to lend a hand.

He gave her a look. Her medical training amounted to knowing less little first aid than Jack.

"I could keep you company," she suggested with a shrug, settling herself against the counter, facing him over the large green, obese and vaguely humanoid corpse that was practically falling off the table.

"You could," he agreed to her offer of company. "How's Ianto?"

"He looks awful," she said miserably.

Bobby stopped what he was doing so he could really look at her. "He'll live, Wendy," he told her the only thing he could think of.

"No thanks to Dafydd," was her sour reply.

"C'm here," he motioned for her to come closer. He didn't hug her because of what he'd just been elbow deep in, but he did lean forward and kiss her forehead, careful not to touch her with anything but his lips. When he pulled back and looked at her again, she was wearing an expression he couldn't quite put a name to. Bobby cocked his head a little, questioningly.

"Nothing."

"Must be something," he turned back to the Abrobvian corpse on his slab. This had to be the messiest autopsy he'd _ever _performed…

Wendy hesitated a moment before speaking: "Would it be completely unprofessional if I chose right now to tell you that I think I might have fallen in love with you?"

He nearly dropped the forceps right into what he presumed was supposed to be a stomach. One of four, to be exact, although how they worked was beyond him. He cleared his throat, but he couldn't think of a single thing to say, witty or otherwise. "I don't think I would say it was unprofessional," he settled for answering the actual question.

"What about unwelcomed?" she ventured.

"Definitely not."

She moved in a little closer, careful not to be any more of a distraction than she was being already. "Mutual?"

He stole a quick glance over his shoulder; Wendy was chewing her lower lip, a sure sign that she was nervous. "Definitely." He wondered if he could sound any more like Dustan Hoffman in _Rain Man_ if he tried… but if anyone had told him a year ago that he'd be discussing his feelings for a werewolf while performing an autopsy on an alien that sucked up people up like the Blob, he never would have believed them.

"I should let you get back to it, huh?" asked Wendy.

"Probably. Just find something to do _other_ than killing Ianto's brother."

"Spoil sport," Wendy teased. Mostly. She didn't want to kill Dafydd so much as box his ears.

She made her way out of the medical bay and up towards the main area of the Hub, hoping to find something productive to do… _but he said it was mutual… _she smiled despite everything else.

…………………………………………………………………….

Dafydd didn't meet his older brother's gaze. Even when Ianto sat down next to him, handing over a mug of tea, he found other things to look at. The floor was a particularly interesting shade of grey.

"I don't hate you," the older Jones began, taking a sip of his own tea. Both mugs were orange jasmine, not because either of them particularly liked it, but because it was their mother's favourite. "I don't even think I'm angry any more. Just disappointed."

"Angry would be easier to live with," Dafydd told him, still concentrating on the floor.

"Probably. But it might help you to know I'm as disappointed in myself as I am in you."

Dafydd couldn't help but shift his gaze to his brother's battered face. "You didn't do anything."

"Exactly."

"Yan…"

"I haven't been around the last few years. It's no wonder you thought I was capable of killing someone."

"I really didn't, you know. That was Tom…" his voice trailed off, thinking about his friend. "I didn't know what to think about seeing you there like that. I still don't." He looked away from his brother to let his gaze wander around the Hub a moment. "How long have you worked in this place?"

"A little over two and a half years."

"Guess that explains where you've been. For the longest time Mam thought… I guess it doesn't matter what she thought." He drank some of his tea. He didn't know what to say to make it right.

"She thought I was frittering my life away in a Tourist Office. She still thinks it."

"At least she knows about Jack," although he paled some at the thought of Ianto's husband. "There's no way out of this, is there? I got myself into something and now…" his voice trailed off.

Before Ianto could answer, the alarm sounded, signalling Mickey's return with dinner. The elder Jones wasn't especially surprised that the he'd thought to pick up Jack's favourite, corned beef on rye with extra pickles on the side, and a turkey sandwich for him as well as the others' orders.

He also wasn't surprised to see Gwen and Vickie coming in just behind the young Englishman. Jack had told everyone to be ready to go back to work by sundown.

"How's Belinda?" Ianto somehow found the energy to ask Mickey about the girl at the sandwich shop he'd been making eyes since the first time he saw her.

He smiled a broad smile… then quickly straightened his expression, clearing his throat. "Fine, I s'ose," he said in a nonchalant tone that was clearly forced. He'd been trying to deny that he was making eyes at her since the first time Ianto and Gwen let on that they'd noticed it.

Ianto caught Gwen's eye and they exchanged a knowing look while Mickey doled out the sandwiches, pointedly_ not_ making eye contact with either of them. "Where's Bobby?" he asked, mostly at Wendy, who by then had also joined them.

"Elbow deep in the Blob."

Mickey made a face, "_That _thing." He shuddered.

Vickie shot him an inquisitive look.

"Oh, God, please, _not_ while I'm eating," Gwen begged when Mickey opened his mouth to explain. "I swear, Mickey," she admonished when it looked like he wasn't going to heed the first warning.

"You know, I probably don't need to know anyway," Vickie added, much to Gwen's relief.

Watching them, Dafydd wondered how they could do it; when Ianto saw the look on his brother's face he gave over a tight-lipped smile, understanding his younger brother's confusion. He leant over, keeping his voice low. "We go on, Dafydd. We live our lives, eat sandwiches and drink tea. We crack jokes to keep from going mad. _This_ is what we do every day." _What __**I**__ do, every day… _

"How?"

Ianto shrugged because he honestly didn't have an answer to that. After a moment, however, he came up with one. "Somebody has to."

…………………………………………………………….

"You're sure…?" Henry asked when Jack offered his arm. "I don't want to cause problems for you."

"You're not." Whatever problems there were, Jack suspected that Henry had only brought them to the surface, not caused them.

Henry nodded and pushed Jack's sleeve up a little higher, exposing the veins that lay close to the surface of his skin. Yesterday had left him drained to the point that just being around people… heartbeats… was taxing. But Jack's scent… a thousand little memories…

He glanced up at the Captain, aware that his nature was close to the surface; the other didn't flinch. Instead, he ran his hand along Henry's cheek, trying to ease away the awkwardness that had settled over them.

"I trust you," Jack assured him softly. "You can't hurt me, remember?"

Henry nodded, accepting what was in front of him for what it was, not what it used to be.

Jack couldn't help the way his eyes slid shut as the familiar feeling washed over him… it was little wonder Henry had been one of the best lovers he'd ever had…

By the time Henry pulled back, Jack's vision had dimmed and he was starting to feel light headed.

"Are you all right?" Henry's tone and expression were filled with concern.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ok." Another couple of few seconds and he was sure he would have passed out.

"Last night took a lot out of me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

Jack waved off the apology. "I'll be all right in a couple of minutes," he leant back on the sofa, trying to ignore the tunnel vision. If he passed out, he was sure Henry would panic. "Immortal, remember?" he added.

"You should eat…"

Jack's chuckle startled him.

"What?"

"I never would have expected you to be the mothering type, Henry."

"I am not…"

"Yes you are," Jack smirked. He could feel his body beginning to recover and started to get up.

Henry stopped him, "Give it a few more minutes, Jack," he placed a firm hand on the older man's shoulders. He was still ghostly pale.

Just then they both heard the sound of shoes scraping against ladder rungs.

Jack closed his eyes, hoping that he was wrong about who shoes belonged to… but he knew the sound all too well.

"I reckoned Jack could use some food," Ianto said simply, after exchanging brief, polite greetings with Henry.

"I'm fine," the Captain tried to protest.

Ianto shook his head, "Not hardly." He handed over the sandwich without sitting down; Jack accepted it without further protest.

"The others are here," Ianto told him. "We should get to work as soon as you're up to it."


	25. Chapter 25

**Thank you again for the amazing response this has gotten. Thank you, too, everyone for your patience as I tackled other projects for a while... **

* * *

**Chapter Twenty Five: A Modest Proposal**

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"May I have a moment?" Henry asked Ianto, when the younger man started to follow Jack up the ladder.

Jack cast a doubtful glance over his shoulder; it was aimed at both men, but Henry was the first to meet his gaze, though his expression remained unreadable.

"We'll be up in a minute, then," Ianto answered, only barely meeting his partner's gaze and only for a moment.

Feeling as if his heart was in the soles of his shoes, Jack nodded, once, and ascended the ladder slowly. Heavily.

All he could do, other than linger around trying to eavesdrop or pry, which would only serve to piss them both off, was to give them the privacy Henry had requested and hope for the best. It was bad enough Ianto was upset with him, he didn't need them both angry.

Ianto shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face the other man… vampire… Crown Prince… _bloody gorgeous immortal._ "Is there something I can do for you, Henry?" he still felt awkward addressing him so informally.

"I… just wanted to say that I hope I haven't a line here tonight."

Ianto forced himself to meet the other man's gaze. "You require sustenance," he decided to keep it as clinical as possible. "Jack is the natural candidate. He can't die. You can't hurt him. He's also the one who invited you."

"There are ways to hurt a man besides physically," Henry's tone was pointed.

"I suppose there are. But sometimes one simply has to deal with a little pain. It's part of life."

"Only when it's necessary. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you how much he loves you..."

"No," Ianto cut him off. "I love him too. With all my heart. I'm not trying to hurt him, I'm just trying to cope with… with my own feelings at the moment. If my human sensibilities have offended you, I apologize."

"No apologies necessary. I realize we should have spoken…"

Ianto waved it aside. "It wasn't necessary. I appreciate the sentiment, but… " he shrugged, honestly at a loss for words. Henry required blood to sustain himself. Jack was the logical candidate. "Shall we?" he gestured towards the ladder.

Ianto wasn't proud of his feelings… the jealousy… but he couldn't deny the things he felt, either. He couldn't deny that at the moment, he was miserable. It was more than Jack. More than Henry. More than the situation with his brother. It was a lot of things… things he wasn't prepared to discuss with a stranger, no matter how well meaning he presumed the other man to be. He wasn't even sure he was prepared to discuss it with Jack, he just knew that he had to. Jack deserved his honesty.

Henry's hand on his shoulder startled the young Welshman.

He turned to face him.

"He's going to out live you, you know."

"He's going to outlive all of us. Present company excluded, of course," Ianto forced a tight smile.

"I could give you immortality."

The Welshman blinked, taken completely by surprise.

"It comes with a price," Henry cautioned him.

"Sunlight." What was it like to live entirely in the darkness, Ianto wondered suddenly.

"And food," Henry told him. "Not that you would need it, but I would be lying if I said I didn't occasionally miss the pleasure of eating… tasting… savouring some new dish from some far off land… or something as simple as steak and kidney pie," he added with a wry, almost wistful little grin. "The pleasures of the body aren't available to you once the body has died." He took the younger man's hand and pressed it to his chest, to emphasize the point that he was, indeed, quite dead.

"And sex?" Ianto inquired, remembering how Owen had said that he couldn't drink, shag or sleep any more… of course Henry was very different from what Owen became. "You and Jack were lovers," he frowned. He didn't mean to pry… didn't _**want**_ to pry… but that seemed at odds with what Henry was telling him.

The other smiled a sly, sly smile. "I can assure you that Jack never once complained about any lack of sexual stimulation. There are things you could do to him that no mortal could _begin_ to grasp. Things he could do for you," his expression gave no room to doubt that the pleasure of sharing a bed had been mutual. "There are other benefits as well. Heightened senses. Greater strength. Speed. You would see the world in a way that is beyond your imagination…. Colours beyond human comprehension… music the likes of which you've never dreamt."

"Drinking blood."

"Drinking blood," Henry conceded. "It isn't an existence for the squeamish. You would be vulnerable during the daylight hours. Vampires _can_ be killed, it's just a difficult task. Although I have no idea how I would fare against whatever it is I keep hearing scraping around a couple of floors down."

"Weevils. Big things. Muscular. Nasty dispositions. Teeth about that long," he held his hands out to demonstrate.

Henry made a face. "Ouch."

Ianto found himself chuckling despite the flock of pterodactyls in his gut. He was finally beginning to see Henry as a vampire and not just the son Henry the Eight… and the sheer generosity of offer he had just made… he knew Henry still loved Jack, he could see it in his eyes… on his face… still… "May I be completely honest about something?"

"Please do."

"You… intimidate me… completely without meaning to," he added quickly. He knew Henry didn't do it on purpose.

"Because of what I am," it wasn't a question.

Ianto shook his head and explained; he really didn't feel intimidated by the vampire part. "It's _who _you are… who you were. Who your father was."

"He was my father… I was his son… but that was hundreds of years ago."

Ianto found himself examining a speck on the floor between his shoes. "You… you were the subject of my seventh grade history essay," he confessed sheepishly.

Henry gave him an oddly pained look. "I'm sure I've been the subject of no few history essays. I hope you did well on it, at least."

The Welshman shrugged, but found himself able to meet the other's gaze again. "If it's any consolation, you're much more interesting in person."

Henry chuckled, "Thank you."

"We should probably get up before Jack starts to wonder…"

"There's nothing wrong with letting your lover 'wonder'," he flashed another one of those sly grins; it rivalled one of Jack's smirks. "A man like Jack needs to wonder once in a while… other wise he may begin to take you for granted."

"He's taken me for granted for as long as we've known each other," Ianto found himself admitting. "I set myself up for it." Butler. Errand boy… _tea boy…_

"Whatever your relationship was in the beginning, I suspect it has progressed to something considerably deeper. For both of you," he added with a sharp look.

The younger man shrugged. Then… "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Did he ever… when you spoke… " he felt heat overtaking his cheeks. "Never mind." He wasn't sure he wanted to know… for that first year he really had been little more than something to pass the time and he knew it.

"He spoke of you quite frequently," Henry told him in a tone too earnest to ignore. "He was quite taken with you… something about a warehouse and a pterodactyl…?" the last was almost a question.

Ianto blinked. "Really? He told you about that?"

"Jack and I have been friends for nearly a century, Ianto. The last decade or so that friendship has grown… it will never be what it was, we had our moment. I know it's passed. This is _your_ moment and I have never seen him happier. I hope… I hope you'll consider my offer. It's not something I would _**ever **_propose lightly."

"I appreciate that… and what you're offering me.. Us. I need to think about it," he said honestly. "I'm not sure I'm prepared to give up what makes me human."

"Take as much time as you need."


	26. Chapter 26

I just wanted to mention again, in case anyone who might be interested has missed it... the FANTASTIC Sidlerocks wrote a follow up to another one of my stories, **Forget Not Me...**please check out her **Interlude, a Tale of Kam Anders** to see "what next" for Jack and Kam... I'll be returning to that storyline, too eventually.

Thank you as always for the many lovely reviews... I can't believe how many wonderful people I have reading my Torchwood 'verse... you guys are so absolutely great, thank you so much!

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**Chapter Twenty Six: Revolations**

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Jack looked up as Ianto and Henry walked into the boardroom; the Captain was at his usual place at the head of the table. He wasn't the only one wearing an anxious expression, but his was the face the young Welshman was avoiding.

Gwen gazed at Ianto with big doe eyes, her expression earning her a tight lipped smile from her countrymen. The look she gave Henry was icy, but he either didn't see it or ignored it. Ianto took his seat, the empty chair to Jack's right with his coffee cup sitting in front of it, without meeting anyone else's gaze; he had too much to think about.

Immortality. _Never seeing the sun again... _he sipped the coffee Wendy had left for him and glanced at Dafydd, sitting across from him. _Watching my little brother grow old and die… watching Nerys…knowing that I would be around to see Remi grow up… get married… _getting to meet her children… her grandchildren… her great grandchildren.

He stole a quick look at Jack, his expression giving the other no clues… Jack had grandchildren out there somewhere… great grandchildren. But he didn't know where they were. Who they were. He'd snuck into his daughters' weddings and then… then he'd walked away from their lives. Forever.

_Maybe it was too painful to do anything else,_ Ianto mused, noting the brief exchange of glances between Jack and Henry, glances that gave Jack no clue what Henry had wanted to talk to him about.

_Making him wonder… _Ianto almost smiled. It wasn't his intention to make Jack wonder…he didn't know what his intention was. _Just get through this, I suppose..._ he reckoned.

Henry, took his seat, at the end of the table; his was the only chair without a cup of coffee or tea in front of it. Ianto wondered how many friends and lovers _he'd_ buried over the long years of his existence...

He thought back, entirely involuntarily, to his and Jack's first real date, after Jack had returned from being with the Doctor. They'd gone to see _The Other Boleyn Sister_. The Welshman smiled to himself at the irony… how could he ever have known that Jack had slept with the real Henry Fitzroy? He'd always assumed that those packages from Toronto came from someone who bore the same name…

The gentle tap of Jack's foot against his drew his attention away from the beautiful almost-Crown Prince. Ianto met Jack's gaze… those gorgeous blue eyes. No one else would have recognized the deep concern flickering in those eyes, in the lines of his face. But Ianto knew.

He fixed his Captain with a brief smile, his full attention on the older man for just a moment, and slid his foot next to Jack's under the table, his shoe rubbing up against the other man's boot, heedless of how grimy he knew it must be… Jack hardly ever cleaned his boots.

"I have a question," Wendy said, before they got underway.

Jack nodded, although clearly he was holding his breath waiting for Something Bad. He'd had to explain to the rest of the team what Henry was, why he was sleeping all day in Jack's old quarters. Their reactions had been mixed, from Gwen's near disbelief to Bobby's sceptical curiosity… Mickey asking if they should stock up on garlic… Wendy's obvious discomfort. Like Jack, Henry was removed from the natural cycle of life and death, something her kind was intimately attuned to. She said looking at Henry was like looking a dead spot, a void… sink hole. Looking at Jack was just as difficult.

Instead of focusing her attention on Henry, however, Wendy turned to Dafydd.

"I've been trying to suss it out all day," she admitted. "Why can't I smell you properly?"

The younger Jones blinked surprised.

Wendy turned her gaze briefly to Ianto. "It's like he's here but not here," she explained. "Like that night when you saw him… I should have smelled him there, I know him… even if I didn't know him, he should smell like you, he's your brother... you all smell similar... but _he _doesn't… he doesn't smell like… like _anything_," she returned her gaze to the younger Jones, the attention making him uncomfortable. "It's like you're there but not there... human but not human. I hear your heart beating, smell your fear but..." she shook her head, at a loss to explain it any better than she already had. "What have you done to yourself?"

"I think I can answer that," said Henry, wearing an easy smile. He turned his gaze to Dafydd, also, making the young man ever more uncomfortable. "You've got some sort of Ward… some kind of protection? A pouch or an amulet? I can't smell him 'properly' either," he confided to the werewolf. "But I can sense the magic around him."

Swallowing (and very uncomfortable to have the full attention of two supernatural creatures) Dafydd nodded pulled the battered leather pouch out from under his shirt. "Mari… Marisol… made this for me about a month ago. She said it would keep me safe from…" he glanced from Henry to Wendy… Wendy whom he knew… to Ianto and then Jack… he didn't finish his sentence. "She gave it to me a few days before she vanished. Right after Cameron died. She didn't believe he drunkenly walked out in front of a bus, either." Glumly, he turned the pouch over in his hands. He hadn't even expected that it really worked, he was just wearing it because it reminded him of Marisol.

"If she's alive, we'll find her," Jack promised. "We're really not the bad guys," he added, giving the younger Jones a tight-lipped smile. Then he turned back to the others, "Ok, Kids. What do we have to work with here?"

"I was able to get the video cleaned up," Mickey volunteered. "It's still pretty much crap, but there are definitely shadows unaccounted for… and I don't think they're human," he hit the remote to bring the images up on the screen behind Jack's head. "Not unless humans suddenly started growing lumps on their heads." He paused the grainy video so they could study the long, badly distorted shadow he was referring to.

Ianto stole a glance his brother; Dafydd couldn't seem to look at the screen.

The shadow didn't seem to belong to any of the human participants of the 'ghost hunt'; it was tall and thin, more so than any of the other shadows. Its head was large, and oddly shaped.

"I matched the image against the aliens we've got on file," he added. "Nothing. If it is an alien, we've never seen this one before." He gave Jack a questioning look; they all knew Jack had seen things that weren't in the files.

The Captain shook his head.

"Take the video back to the beginning," said Henry. "I'd like to see the whole thing."

The Englishman nodded and started the video over from the beginning. "I did what I could," he added. "But there wasn't much to work with."

All but Dafydd watched the shaky footage of the group setting up… Marisol laughed and told Cameron to get the camera off her ass… Dafydd chided him, although clearly he was joking.

Ianto watched his brother… the version of him on the screen at the head of the room was the person he remembered from when they were kids… teen agers…. The sullen man sitting cross from him picking imaginary dirt out from under his black-lacquered finger nails was a stranger.

Several moments into the film, Anne's mood changed… _"Tom, something is seriously wrong here. We should go."_

_"We just got started," he asserted, his tone derisive. "I called off work for this."_

_"Yeah, come on, Annie," that was Dafydd. "You can't wimp out on us now," unlike Tom, his tone was jovial, teasing at her. He grinned widely at the camera, "Anne St. Claire, wimping out again," he said in a voice that was meant to mimic TV anchormen. _

_"It's not funny, Dafydd," she protested._

_He laughed it off…_

Dafydd sunk further into his chair.

_"Hey, what was that?" Quinn asked suddenly from off camera. "Cameron… over there… the hallway… "_

_The camera swung wildly to pick up the first glimpse of the strange shadow; it was barely a smudge on the film._

_"Holy Christ!" Cameron swore._

_"Did you get that?" asked Quinn. "That wasn't one of us… right?"_

_"Get the mic's out," Tom ordered._

_"Maybe Anne's right," Marisol began. "I'm starting to get the creeps."_

_"Don't be such a wanker," Tom's voice could be heard from off camera. "Get the rest of the equipment. Set the mic's up in here and in the kitchen. Marisol, you and Dafydd go check the upstairs… Quinn, take the basement…"_

_"Sod off, I'm not going anywhere in this creepy old place alone."_

_"Fine… I'll check the basement, you monitor the equipment. And you two," he called after Dafydd and Marisol, as the camera swung to pick them up; they were heading up a broad stair case, hand in hand, each with an equipment bag slung over one shoulder. "You're setting up mic's not looking for a quiet place to shag!" Tom reminded them jokingly. Despite the obvious tension in the air, they all laughed… _

"Nothing much happens for about an hour," Mickey said as he fast forwarded the video. "There are a few bumps and scratches… the temperature drops about five degrees…" he shrugged.

"We argued," supplied Dafydd. "After me and Mari got back downstairs… Anne wanted to leave. Mari thought we should, too. She got out her deck and started throwing cards… she kept getting the Tower…. You know, like the Tower of Babylon."

"Self-made folly," Henry explained.

Dafydd nodded. "The rest of us blew it off. We wanted to stay." He cast a doleful look in Jack's direction. "Then… then it got freaky."

Mickey hit the button to resume play.

_"Something just touched me!" Marisol cried out._

_"It's in your head, Mari," said Dafydd, his tone one of rebuke. _

_"It is not in my head! Something grabbed my arm!"_

_"Something's here," Anne whispered. "It… guys… it's not human… we shouldn't be here! Please… Tom… we have to go now!"_

_"Oh my God… Anne!" Quinn shrieked. "Anne… Annie… Tom…!"_

_The camera jiggled wildly… "I'm out of here…" Cameron told them._

_The camera jerked again, as if the operator had been grabbed. "Oh no you're not!" Tom yelled at him. "Get the camera on her… now!" he ordered. "Come on… get this on tape!" _

His excitement was sickening…

_"Tom, we have to get her out of here!" cried Marisol. "Something's really wrong… "_

_The view swung around… Anne was lying on her side with Marisol kneeling over her._

Dafydd felt his heart squeeze tight as Mickey zoomed in on Anne's twitching form. They all watched as Anne's eyes rolled back and she started convulsing violently.

"There's no history of seizures or epilepsy," Gwen added in a quiet tone. "I went through her medical records after Mickey showed me this."

Jack just nodded, continuing to watch, forcing himself to be detached… but when he felt Ianto's hand on his arm, he reached out and laced his fingers into his partner's. This wasn't something the rift had spit out at them. This was Ianto's brother… his brother's friends… and Anne was lying dead in their morgue, probably as a direct result of what they were watching.

Mickey slowed the video footage. "Look there," he said. "Right hand corner, just over her head."

For the first time the younger Jones saw the shadow move towards Anne… in the moment it had all happened too fast… Tom was shouting, they were all freaking out, hyped up on adrenaline and fear.

Onscreen, Anne screamed as if in agony…

"It… went _into_ her?" Vickie frowned, glancing at Henry, silently questioning if he'd seen the same thing she had.

Henry nodded.

"Play it back," said Jack.

Mickey obliged. A split second before Anne screamed, the shadow seemed to sink into her… she shook, her eyes rolled back… the others rushed over to her, knocking over the camera as they tried to help her with what appeared to be a violent seizure while she babbled incoherently.

"She never… she'd never done anything like that before," said Dafydd. "We didn't know what she was saying. We'd heard her say things before… her voice changed… but… not like that." He closed his eyes tight, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Next to him, Gwen put a hand on the young man's arm, trying to offer some measure of comfort. It didn't really help… he flashed her a tight lipped smile anyway.

"I don't understand," said Bobby, speaking at last. "If that… thing… went into her… why did they kill her? Why remove her heart and liver?"

Henry spoke, "Some cults believe that certain organs hold residual energy after death. Life force, if you will. If they believed that she'd become possessed, perhaps they were trying to harness that demonic energy for themselves."

"The heart I understand," the medic agreed. "But the liver?"

Henry just shrugged. "Humans have strange beliefs, Dr. Chase."

Vickie regarded her partner. "Please do _not _tell me they ate her liver, Henry."

"I have no idea what they did with it. What I do believe is that she was killed because that thing… demon or what have you," he added for Jack's benefit, "took possession of her."

"She didn't act any differently, though," Dafydd asserted. "Not afterwards. She calmed down after a few minutes. We packed up. We took her home… she was fine."

"Did you read her diary?" Gwen asked.

The younger Jones shook his head.

"You should have," said Vickie.

Gwen passed the book to Jack, several pages were highlighted. "Her journal entries became really weird after that."

"There were a little weird to begin with," Vickie added. "But after whatever happened that night… it's like she knew something had possessed her… but she didn't know what to do about it."

"She knew she was going to die," said Gwen, confirming what Dafydd had told them before.

"Yeah, well, there's something else you need to see," Mickey interrupted. He hit the fast forward. "I almost missed it... just caught it the last time I want through trying to clean up the footage a bit more." He cast an almost nervous looking glance down at Ianto before hitting play again.

The camera appeared to have fallen on its side, but it was still recording. He paused, "Look at the left hand corner… near that picture there," Mickey instructed.

Two misshapen shadows appeared to be lurking in the background… one slunk towards Cameron then vanished… the other reached out towards Dafydd's back... then the camera cut out.


	27. Chapter 27

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**Chapter Twenty Seven: Filling in the Blanks**

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The room had fallen silent.

Everyone looked to Dafydd, except for Ianto who didn't seem to be able to look at anything. Jack glanced at the younger Jones first, but then turned his attention to his partner; he looked stricken.... that boy Cameron had walked out in front of a bus and Anne had been murdered…

Dafydd was looking down at the little pouch he'd been fiddling with the entire time, not meeting anyone's gaze. Gwen tightened her grip on his arm. She opened her mouth to say something encouraging, but Dafydd cut her off:

"Looks like this thing is just bullocks, then," his voice was cold and tears stung at his blood shot eyes. He tossed the pouch carelessly down the table, his eyes finall rising to meet Wendy's gaze, Henry's. "You guys couldn't smell me because I'm not me any more, am I?" it wasn't really a question.

"Don't say that," Ianto breathed. He looked to Jack… he always looked to Jack.

"You_ are_ still you, Dafydd," Henry stood up and carried the pouch back to the young man, draping it back around his neck. "This might be the only thing keeping you alive right now."

"How…?" Bobby was the one to ask the question most of them were thinking. It was just a pouch… some herbs, maybe a crystal… simple folk magic at best.

"Think about it," said, Vickie, her tone frighteningly rational. "The first guy stepped out in front of a bus, supposedly drunk. Someone got to Anne St. Claire, murdered her, cut out her liver and heart. _You're _still alive. The only thing different is had that," she nodded towards the pouch.

Henry laid his hands on the boy's shoulders. "And us," he said in a gentle tone.

Dafydd looked up at him with a new kind of pain in his eyes. "This is why Mari ran away, isn't it? She knew… somehow she knew…she must have. She left me..."

"We don't know what she knew, son… what she _knows_," he made a point of speaking of Marisol in the present tense.

"Don't we have anything, Jack?" asked Gwen. "With all the alien technology Torchwood has accumulated over the years… I mean, come on, you had a glove that could bring people back to life!" (Vickie gave a startled look when she said that.) "There has to be something in the archives that can help…"

"I've been through the archives," Ianto cut her off. "There is no Demon Hunting Manual tucked away between Daleks and Dinosaurs."

"Fortunately, I do have a few of those," Henry assured him. "All we have to do is narrow down what demon we're dealing with."

"How will that help?" Mickey asked.

"Demons aren't like aliens," said Vickie, although her tone made it was clear that that was a statement she never, _**ever,**_ had expected to hear coming out of her own mouth. "No matter what you believe about demons," she flashed Jack a quick glance, "if you know what it is… what it's called… that gives you measure of power over it, a way to win."

"That makes them a lot like aliens, actually," Jack told her with a sly grin. "Daleks…?" He looked around the room.

"Aim for the eyestalk," Mickey was the first to understand the question.

The Captain nodded. "Sontarans?"

"The back of the neck," said Gwen.

"Dagons?" Jack looked to Bobby.

The young medic smiled, "Dive behind the nearest immortal."

Jack chuckled "There are more practical answers."

"It worked for me."

"You were just too cute to let you get shot. Still are, too," Jack winked.

Under the table, Ianto gave his foot a gentle nudge, earning him Jack's undivided attention for a fraction of a second. But a fraction of a second was all he ever needed to know how much the older man loved him. "The point," the Welshman said to the confused look on his little brother's face, "is that if we know what something is, we know how to fight it. Right?" he glanced up at Henry.

"Exactly right, Mr. Jones."

"We _will_ figure this out," said Vickie.

Jack nodded. "Dafydd, it looks like you're going to be staying here a while, so you might as well make yourself comfortable. Henry… were do we start? How do we help?" he didn't notice the look Ianto gave him then, the gratitude on the younger man's face.

"What if just having me here puts the rest of you in danger?" the younger Jones asked, before Henry could answer.

Mickey shot him a look, "Trust me, mate, we have better security than that church we found you in."

"He's right," Ianto agreed. "You'll be safe here. We'll figure this out. We'll fix it."

Vickie spoke up, "Gwen and I did a lot of research this afternoon," she told them. "Dafydd, you were right about this not being the first time these people have killed."

For the first time since taking her back to work after finding out she was pregnant, Jack didn't voice any sort of objection to Gwen's having worked all day instead of getting some sleep. When she gave him a questioning glance the Captain simply nodded once, much the same way he had when he took Ianto back after the Cyberman incident.

She cleared her throat and nodded to Mickey, who touched a few controls on the remote to bring up images of old newspaper clippings onto the screen.

"It starts back in 1902," said Gwen. "Torchwood doesn't seem to have anything on record…" she glanced to Ianto, who shook his head confirming that no, Torchwood hadn't noticed.

Jack found himself frowning again, but he said nothing. Torchwood should have taken note something that had started that far back… shouldn't they? Even if it wasn't alien, it should have been noteworthy… _but there were never more than four or five of us here at a time…_ It was a wonder they'd been able to keep up with the rift._ Why did we run such a skeleton crew all these years? _he wondered. He knew his own reasoning had as much to do with how little he trusted people as anything else. Yvonne Hartman was his current favourite example of how _NOT _to run a top secret organization… but maybe it was time for a change, not in the secret part, but in the number of people to do the job…

Maybe if there were more people, more time off, fewer two and three day stints without sleep… maybe people would live longer. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. He glanced at Ianto, but his partner wasn't looking his way…

Gwen was speaking: "Every ten or twelve years, there's been a string of four or five unsolved murders, all within a few months of one another… which isn't really conclusive, except for the occult connection."

Mickey changed to another image, a blood splattered crime scene that was reminiscent what they'd found when they discovered Anne St. Claire's body.

Dafydd looked like he was going to be sick, but Henry held him firm, strong hands holding him gently in place without actually forcing him to stay.

Mickey continued, "I got these off the police database. Crime scene photos that got uploaded from, 1998. Just this time of year, too."

"It's always this time of year," Vickie added.

"I talked to the detective who investigated the incident in 1998," said Gwen. "He's retired now. Said this time of year 'always brings out the crazies'. There were other 'occult' or 'Satantic' killings that year. Every year. But there are always four of five with types of symbols," she nodded to Mickey, who brought up the next image, a close up on symbols that matched what they'd found around Anne's body. "Since nobody consulted any kind of an expert or anything, no one seems to have noticed," she shrugged. "After a few months, the unsolved cases get boxed up with the other cold cases and forgotten about."

"If this cult has been operating for a hundred years… or more," Henry pointed out, "they're probably very good at covering their tracks."

"But what do they want?" asked Dafydd.

"You're the local expert," Jack said. "You tell us."

The younger Jones fidgeted under the scrutiny of those blue eyes. "I… I have no idea. Tom was the one who knew everything…" he glanced up at Henry, a new flicker of nervousness passing over his face.

"Mr. Maddox was supplied with an address from an anonymous email. The sender told him where to find the key."

"So it was a set up," said Vickie.

He nodded. "It would seem so, yes."

"What do we do now?" Dafydd wanted to know. "Can you get this thing out of me?"

"I'd like to visit this house myself," said Henry.

"I'll go with you," Wendy offered. She looked to Jack, "I may not be any kind of occult expert, but I'm better suited to this than the rest of the team." Her glance shifted to Bobby's face for a moment; his concern was obvious, but he didn't object, at least not aloud.

Jack nodded, getting to his feet. "I'll drive. The rest of you keep working. Gwen…"

"I know," she moaned, "desk duty."

He flashed her a smile, "Well I was going to say nice work… but yeah, desk duty," he affirmed. "If the rift does anything… handle it," he looked to Mickey and Bobby. "We'll be back by sun up."

Ianto gave him an inquisitive look.

"Stay with your brother," Jack told him in a soft tone.

Reluctantly, the Welshman nodded; this had nothing to do with Jack not wanting him in the field. Dafydd needed him. Jack understood that. He didn't need his partner's permission to forgive his younger brother, but he was all the happier for having it.

"You should probably call your sister too and give her an update," Jack suggested, as Ianto rose intending to fetch the Captain's coat for him. "I don't need her running around Cardiff getting into trouble."

Ianto smiled; Jack had a point. But first he helped his Captain into his coat…


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: **

I had a request to clarify sequence of events. Blood Moon takes place a couple of months before Black Rose (before Abby and Tim join the team.)

…………………………………………………………**..**

**Chapter Twenty Eight: Into the Shadows**

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"Nerys, everything is fine, I promise," Ianto lied.

"No it isn't."

He sighed. He never could lie convincingly to his sister, even over the phone.

He was standing sitting in Jack's office, for privacy... or maybe for the sense of security the office had always given him. When Jack had left them… he glanced around the little room again. He had spent hours here when Jack was gone. It was the room that most smelled like his Captain, now that they'd moved out of the Hub.

"It will be fine, Nerys," he said into his mobile, amending his earlier statement.

"Can I come by?"

"You know the answer to that."

"I don't mean can I come into your secret little club house," her tone was scathing. "I mean can I come by to the Tourist Office where everybody thinks you work. I'd like to see Dafydd. I'd like to see you," she added.

He stifled another sigh. But really, what would it hurt? "Ring me when you get there and we'll meet you outside." Now all he had to do was keep Dafydd from saying anything about demons, werewolves or vampires…

………………………………………………………………..

The house, which was the only building standing at the end of an old dirt lane, lay further outside of Cardiff than Jack was comfortable with. It was too far from back up… too far from shelter should they get caught by sunrise. Should _Henry _get caught.

Jack slid out of the SUV first… Henry and Wendy followed suit, each taking the time to glance around before approaching the big old house.

It looked like it was falling apart. Even the brick wall that surrounded the property was crumbling and the gate appeared to have rusted off its hinges ages ago. Beyond the wall lay acres of semi-wooded fields that hadn't been tended in dozens of years, at least. Off in the distance, Jack could just make out the red lights of what he suspected was a radio tower, the only visible evidence of near by civilization.

The other side of the road, across from the house, was blanketed by thick woods.

Gwen and Vickie had already run the property deed; it belonged to the county. The last person to own the place, to actually live here, had died over a hundred years ago. The same year they died, there were a string of murders similar to the ones in Cardiff, which were also unsolved. The year had been 1890.

After the owners died, leaving no heirs, the property was auctioned off. The new owners failed to come and pick up the keys, let alone make any payments. Since then, it had stood empty. Jack could see why.

The last hundred or so kilometres of the trip had consisted of an odd mix of farm country and industrial buildings, at least half of which seemed to have fallen into dis-use. There was a sulphur scent in the air from the paper mill they'd passed a while back as well as several other unpleasant scents Jack couldn't name.

Wendy wrinkled her nose. "There's a lake around here. Stagnant water. This place must be crawling of mosquitoes in the summer."

Henry nodded. It wasn't the sort of place he could imagine most people wanting to live, although in its heyday, he could imagine that the house must have been quite lovely. There were chips of faded blue paint still clinging to the shudders, roses and blackberry bushes struggling against the autumn chill…

And a feeling of deep-seated foreboding in the air that was palatable, he was sure, even to his companions.

It was just the sort of place a group of ghost hunters would go to spend a "fun" night getting into trouble.

"Wendy, go around back," said Jack, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "Henry, you're with me."

The once almost-Crown Prince gave him a briefly scrutinizing gaze that might have unsettled anyone else, but acquiesced to the Captain's authority in the matter without argument.

Wendy simply nodded and headed around the back, leaving her jacket behind at the SUV as it would be one less thing for her to remove if she needed to change skins quickly.

The hairs on the back of Jack's neck rose as he and Henry entered in through the front door. It had been locked, but was easy enough to break down. According to Henry the only life in the house was vermin.

A few moments later, Wendy checked in to say the back was clear; no sign of human habitation for at least ten years, probably more. (After all, just because the place hadn't been properly owned by anyone, didn't mean that there may not be people living here… anyone could be dangerous, not just card carrying cultists.)

Jack told her to take the upstairs, he and Henry would take the basement and they would meet back on the main floor…

"Be careful," he added, although he was beginning to wonder if they would find anything more than cobwebs and rats….

……………………………………………………………..

Well aware of how many rules he was bending, Ianto opened the Tourist Office door to let Nerys in. It was too chilly to stay outside and he didn't want to risk meeting at the café across the way. Besides, it wasn't like he was walking her into the Hub. She already knew the Tourist Office was a cover for Torchwood.

"Dafydd…" she moved past him to the younger of her brothers, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oh my God, I've been worried sick about you!"

Dafydd was barely responsive to the hug. "I'm fine," he said when he pulled back, as quickly as he could. He was sure that this was a bad idea.

Ianto filled the electric kettle in the back room up with water and plugged it in.

Nerys took Dafydd's chin in one hand, forcing her little brother to look her in the eye. "You're not fine," she told him. She glanced at Ianto over Dafydd's shoulder. "But you will be."

He flashed her a tight smile. "If anyone can sort this out, it's Jack," he assured them both.

……………………………………………………………

"Jack… look at this," Henry called him over to where he was kneeling.

Rather than one big room, the basement was a series of smaller rooms connected by narrow halls in an almost labyrinth like design. The wood supporting the house over their heads was old. Rotted. Musty. Neither of them wanted to be there any longer than necessary; metaphysical threats aside, the house seemed as if it could topple down on itself at any moment.

The Captain shone the beam of his torch down to the floor in front of Henry so he could see what he was looking at. Seeing didn't help him clarify what it was, however. "Wax?" he asked. It was waxy looking, at least. Black. But it wasn't like the drippings from a candle.

Carefully, Henry picked up one of the fragments so Jack could get a better look. "It's a wax seal. Only… there's blood in the wax. I can smell it. The wax is made at least in part from human fat, Jack."

"Ok. That's weird."

Henry chuckled softly, "Welcome to my world, my friend."

Shaking his head, Jack handed over an evidence bag from his pocket so Henry could pick up the rest of the shards for them to take back to the Hub. It was the first truly tangible evidence they'd come across so far, other than one dead body and a room full of blood.

Someone had made the seal. Someone had broken it. That someone was a person. _That _ was something Jack could get his head around. The rest of it… he was willing to believe that there were stranger things under heaven, he just wasn't sure what to make of shadows and demons.

"If we can connect this back to the people who did this," Henry's words echoed his thoughts, "we'll be that much closer to saving Dafydd."

"You don't think you can get whatever is in him out, do you?" he asked. He had been afraid to say it out loud before… he hadn't wanted to admit that Dafydd might be beyond saving. But he knew Henry; he recognized his tone and the look he'd given the younger Jones earlier in the night. Henry wasn't nearly as confident as he'd pretended he was.

He stopped before they reached the top of the stair. "I honestly don't know, Jack. These things rarely end well."

The Captain merely nodded. Glancing at his watch, he suggested that they get back to the city. It had taken almost two hours to get there… a couple of hours to search the house and grounds… at this rate, the sun would be coming up by the time they got back to the Hub.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty Nine: Morning Sun**

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Jack found Ianto sitting on the roof of the Millennium Centre. It was the first time he could ever remember finding his partner out here of his own accord (usually he came up to the roof to find Jack or because Jack had asked him to join him).

He knew Ianto had gotten the message that they'd found the remains of that wax seal; Vickie, Mickey and Gwen were working on it, now.

But Ianto didn't turn around to greet him.

Jack stood and waited, unable to tell if the younger man wanted to be alone or if he simply hadn't noticed him. If the case were the former, he didn't want to intrude.

A rose-hued sun was just starting to come up over the bay, the city. It was beautiful. The sky was streaked with bands of blazing ruby and orange. Light and colour glittered on the water. In the distance a ship's horn blew. The wind carried the scent of the ocean…

Jack stood for many more long moments watching, but Ianto didn't turn to face him. He seemed to be staring out at nothing… everything.

He was about to turn and leave the younger man to his thoughts when Ianto's voice stayed him. "Breathtaking, isn't it?" it wasn't really a question.

"Yeah. It is," he agreed. The Captain joined his partner, taking a seat on the edge of the building next to him, but not too near. Despite Ianto's greeting, he wasn't sure his presence was welcomed; the younger man's tone had been very distant. It looked like Ianto had been crying… "We'll figure this out, Sweetheart," Jack reached for the other man's hand.

Ianto neither rejected his touch nor reciprocated the action, he simply seemed to be allowing his hand to be held.

Jack took a deep breath and let it out. "Talk to me…?" He asked.

"I've got so much going through my head right now, Jack. Too much." He faced his partner. "I'm completely mixed up inside. It's not just what's going on with Dafydd."

Nerys hadn't stayed long last night. She'd told Mam she was just running a quick errand… it made him feel guilty. Now he had his sister lying to their mother… his whole life was one big stack of lies.

The look on Ianto's face was enough to break Jack's heart… his soul. "What can I do to help?"

"I don't know if you _can_ help. I don't know if anyone can."

Jack rubbed his thumb over the younger man's fingers… over the ring… "Some things… some things can't be fixed," he agreed, searching his partner's face for some clue, some indication, _anything_ that would let him believe the other man wasn't going to tell him they were through. He'd known it was more than the thing with Dafydd before Ianto had said as much. The thing with Dafydd – Henry's presence – they had just brought whatever it was to the fore… and Jack could take some guesses about the sorts of things that might be bothering the younger man.

"No matter what, I will always love you Ianto," he said at last, not finding anything in the other's face to tell him he was staying.

The Welshman nodded; turned away. He was silent a long, long while before speaking again. "I… I am so sorry," his voice was barely audible. "I… I feel so damned selfish…but I _can't _do it." He couldn't add one more thing to his life to lie about. "Please say you'll forgive me, Cariad."

"I…" he found himself having a hard time speaking. "There is nothing you could ever do that I wouldn't forgive. I have loved you for so long… maybe I shouldn't have wasted all that time… I am so sorry for that." _Maybe if I had told you sooner… _"If… whatever you need… anything you ever want…"

Ianto turned and looked at him again, clearly puzzled by Jack's words. "Henry didn't tell you what we talked about, did he?" he asked.

Jack blinked. "No." _Henry?_

The Welshman swallowed hard, and forced himself to maintain eye contact. Behind him, the sky was lightening, grey becoming blue… night becoming day. "I can't give this up, Jack," he said as if that explained everything. "I want my days with you. I want afternoons at the beach and take long walks in the park. I want to go out to breakfast together just like always." He needed Jack to understand why he couldn't take what Henry had offered him. He needed Jack not to be hurt. Angry. He knew he was being selfish and he hated himself for it… "I can't give up the things I love the most about our life together." And it was tearing him up inside.

They could have forever. Together. He would never have to leave, Jack would never have to bury him.

He could watch Remi grow up... her children. Her children's children. He could always be there, watching over them, keeping them safe.

But he would never truly be a part of their lives, not without birthday cake and Sunday afternoons.

Jack regarded his partner a long moment as understanding slowly dawned. Henry… he must have offered Ianto… he'd offered immortality. But Henry's immortality came with an impossibly steep price. "Sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"We could have forever, Jack… but I just can't and I'm so sorry.… I don't mean to be so selfish… I just can't give up my days… the sun… "

"Shhhhh," Jack silenced him by leaning over and brushing his lips over the younger man's mouth. "I wouldn't ever ask you to give that up. _Ever._ I'll take whatever we get. Another day. Another week. A year. I don't want to give up long walks in the park either, or going out to breakfast just like always or that football game we keep promising Jason. If you wanted to," he held his partner's hand a little tighter; "if you wanted to, I would love you just the same and of course I never want to lose you…" he pulled the younger man closer as he lost his own battle with tears. "But I would never, ever, ask you to give up so much just for me. That doesn't make you selfish."

"I feel like it does."

"It doesn't."

Ianto wasn't sure he was convinced. He looked out at the lightening sky. What did they really know about the Universe, he wondered. What could any of them say with absolute knowledge? "Do you think there's anything to Wendy's beliefs?"

Jack swallowed, but the lump in his throat remained, his gut was still tight. More than anything, he _wanted_ to believe Wendy could be right. There were times when he was desperate to believe it that there was something after this, life after death. Some way of coming back. Somewhere to go where you got to meet up with everyone who had gone on before. But he knew better. "Yan… we both know… this is it." One life. Then nothing. No heaven. No hell. No coming back. Just darkness. "We have both seen concrete proof that there is nothing else out there."

"But what if Owen didn't see anything… what if _you_ never see anything... because you're not dead long enough? The longest you've ever been gone is a few days. What if it takes more than that to get to the other side? What if there's really some other way back…" Wendy believed so whole heartedly in reincarnation. Vickie claimed to have seen proof of it… he'd talked to her after Nerys left and Dafydd fell back asleep. She and Henry had had a case and they had seen absolute concrete proof…

"Suzie was dead for months, Sweetheart. All she saw was darkness."

Ianto pulled in close. "So talk me into accepting Henry's offer…" _please…. I am so afraid of losing you… leaving you…_ he tried to say the words, but they refused to come out.

"I don't want to give this up, either," he glanced out at the sunlit city. "I want our days together. I want breakfast in bed and sneaking out for a banana split when the rest of the team thinks we're shagging in the archives," he flashed a mischievous smile at his partner; Ianto returned it. It wasn't that they never shagged in the Archives… all over the Hub… it was just that the rest of the team thought they did it more often than they actually did. Jack loved nothing more than playing sneaking off with Ianto to play hookie. Sometimes they went for a banana split, sometimes they went to shag in the SUV… sometimes they just took a walk around the Plass or went window shopping in the Millennium Centre.

"I want to see you naked in the sun on some beach," Jack added with a smirk. "I want to feed you pineapples and whipped cream off every _inch _of my body," he flashed another mischievous – and decidedly lascivious – grin that made the younger man smile, the last of his tears drying up. Jack continued on in a serious tone. "I want you to have a normal life, Ianto, as normal as I can give you."

"I gave up on normal a long time ago, Cariad. But I do love you. I love our life together and there's nothing I would change or do over again."

Jack gave him an appraising look… there was something he wasn't saying.

The younger man just smiled at his perceptiveness. "We'll talk more when the rest of this is sorted. I promise you, though, it's nothing bad. I just… I'm sorting through some things. I have some things I need to think about." He leant up and pressed his mouth to Jack's; it was the only way he knew to convince his partner that none of the things on his mind involved him leaving or anything else that was bad


	30. Chapter 30

**Sorry this has been so long between updates.** I realized that I couldn't go too much further in **12 Months** withough finishing this because there are spoilers for this story in the next chapter of that story. My own fault for writing in different timelines in my own AU. ;-)

Thank you again for the continued reviews / fave / alert listings! Reviews and good coffee fuel the writer's soul.

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**Chapter Thirty: Turning Points**

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Analyzing a scraping from the wax seal, Bobby was glad House had so often insisted that his team run most of their own tests rather than relying on lab techs to do the work. It was tedious, usually boring, but at the moment he was glad he knew his way around a lab… although he wouldn't be one to object if Jack ever decided to hire a real scientist for the team. He knew the Captain was looking for one or two more people. If he thought he could stomach the work, he might have mentioned Eric Foreman's name to his boss… but Foreman wasn't cut out for this. _Hell, who is cut out for this?_ he wondered.

Sure, as a kid he'd watched old episodes of Flash Gordon on late night / early morning television and dreamt of flying off in a rocket ship to battle evil aliens and scary monsters… _I just never thought I'd grow and actually be doing it…_ Bobby almost laughed at the insanity of it.

He leant back against the counter and closed his eyes. He couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd slept.

He looked up again when he heard Wendy's soft footfalls on the steps down to the medical bay.

"How's it coming?" she asked asked, slipping up quietly next to him.

"I'm waiting on the results… but Henry was right. It's human fat."

She cringed.

He stepped away from the counter and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, drawing her into a warm embrace. "How're you holding up?" he asked, running his fingers over the tense muscles of her back, hoping to help her relax.

"I'm fine. It's not my little brother who got himself mixed up in this."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't affect you, Wen," he emphasized his point by working on one of the knots under her shoulder blades.

She sighed, burying her head in his chest… his warmth… his scent. So human… she stood there a while, while he eased some of the tension out of her back.

"Why don't you get some rest?" he suggested, then. "It will probably help." He only hoped she didn't suggest he do the same thing.

"Mind if I curl up down here?" she asked instead.

He gave her a look. "This isn't the most comfortable place in the Hub, you know."

"Yes it is. You're here."

Bobby pressed his lips to hers a long moment, enjoying the way she smiled into the kiss. "I love you," he whispered at her as softly as he could, still not sure if the words were really going to be welcomed… reciprocated... even though she was the one who had said them first.

She smiled. "I love you too."

He returned her smile; the words were so good to hear. He had felt the first stirrings of deep emotion long before she said anything, but past experience had made him cautious of revealing too much of how he felt for someone.

Wendy settled herself down into the padded chair he had added along with a desk and whiteboard shortly after taking the position of Torchwood's medic. Bobby slipped out of his lab coat and draped it around her shoulders like a blanket. He leant in and kissed the top of her head. "Try to get some sleep," he said.

She nodded; he watched her close her eyes. Her breathing became shallow… her head nodded off to one side. He smiled and went back to work.

He wasn't sure what they would gain by analyzing the wax, other than proving that whoever had made it was truly sick, but knowing was better than not knowing and it gave him something to do that made him feel useful. Much like Jack, he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the whole concept of demons and devils... which in the moment, surprised him. He _should _understand it. He was Catholic... he had entertained, at least briefly, the idea of joining the priesthood. There was more to Heaven and Earth than he could stick under a microsope and analyze...

Bobby sighed. He was also a scientist. Which was why he was a doctor and not a priest... well... part of the reason. Just the same, he took a moment to close his eyes and do something he hadn't done seriously in a long while. He prayed.

…………………………………………………………………..

Jack and Ianto sat on the roof watching the sunrise, Jack's coat thrown over the younger man's shoulders against the cold wind coming in from the bay. "Are you sure everything's all right?" he asked at length. "Aside from…" he shrugged. Aside from the fact that Dafydd seemed to be inhabited by some sort of demon. Or whatever. Jack still wasn't sure he believed in demons, at least not the way Henry used the word.

"I need time to sort out some things, that's all," the young Welshman promised him again, handing Jack's coat back to him as they stood to go back inside.

"All right. I'll stop worrying," he said the words even though he wasn't sure he could make good on the promise.

But thinking back on the last year or so of their lives, Jack realized he had some things of his own to sort out, too. He wanted to give Ianto some sort of normal, happy life… _but if I really mean that, I need to figure out some way of actually doing it because so far his life anything but normal or happy… _well, maybe it was a little bit happy, he thought as he glanced over at the young man. Ianto slipped his hand into his as they walked back down to the Hub. He looked as happy as anyone could possibly look under the circumstances.

Just the same, this wasn't the life Jack wanted for his partner. His son… himself.

Jason deserved a father who was around more, not just someone who only put in an appearance for breakfast and dinner. Jack had forever but Jason… Ianto… their time was so painfully finite…

"Ianto," he stopped before they got to the last door. As soon as the younger man turned to look at him, he froze up. He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the words. _I want to give you so much… _

"It's all right, Jack, I promise."

"It's not all right. But I want to make it all right. Only I don't know how."

The younger man leant forward and pressed his mouth to his partner's lips. "It's going to be all right, Cariad. I'm really not leaving you." He didn't understand the look in the other man's blue eyes… he couldn't know how much he wanted to say, all the things Jack couldn't find the words for.

"I… I will do anything you ask me to, to make you happy." He said at last; he answered the startled look on his partner's face with a smile. "Just staying isn't enough, Yan. I want you to be _happy_. But I don't know what to do to make you happy…"

"You just did."

Jack wrapped his arm around the younger man's waist and pulled him in close. He didn't feel as if just saying it was enough… but there was nothing in those grey blue eyes of Ianto's to suggest he was unhappy with him… with _them_. That didn't mean he wasn't going to try harder, however. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I don't think I can…"

"You have to eat, Sweetheart. You need to keep up your strength for me," he teased, eyebrows raised.

Ianto managed a small laugh – which had been Jack's real intent. "I suppose we could pop out for a bite and bring back something for the rest of the team." They should get theirs to go, too, but he wanted so much to just sit with his partner… to get away for a few minutes. Wanting to get away like that made him feel guilty, like he was abandoning his brother, even though they were only going to walk across the Plass to their favourite café. _But Dafydd is stuck here. _There was no guarantee they could get that thing out of him. If they couldn't… if they couldn't, Dafydd would probably end up next to Gray in the vaults. He would be stuck there forever.

Jack pressed his lips to the younger man's forehead, "We _will_ figure a way out of this. I promise."

He sagged against his partner's chest, letting the him wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. Jack never made promises he couldn't keep.

……………………………………………………………………..

Gwen sat back marvelling at what she and Vickie – with no small amount of help from Mickey – had just accomplished. "I don't believe it." She stared at the wax seal sitting on the desk in front of them. It was almost perfectly put back together. There were just a few cracks, a couple of chips where pieces had gone missing, but the details could be made out perfectly. What was more…

"Now let's just see if we can lift some prints," Vickie's words were an echo of Gwen's thoughts.

"And hope they're in the system," added Mickey.

Vickie smiled at him. "You'd be surprised how many stupid lucky breaks I caught when I was working homicide."

"I don't think we have a fingerprinting kit…" Gwen began. Maybe they should have one, though. Vickie was right, sometimes you just got lucky…

"Hang on, I've seen them do stuff like that on the telly," said Mickey. "You just need like some powder and a clear tape, right?"

"You can't just use any kind of powder…"

"But I'll bet Bobby has something that might work."

Vickie and Gwen exchanged glances… it couldn't hurt to look, at any rate.

"I'll go down and have a look," the Welshwoman volunteered.

Vickie nodded. While Gwen did that, she asked Mickey to take a picture of the seal so she could send it to Coreen to work on. Hopefully by the time Henry got back up, they'd have something.

The proximity alarm sounded and the cog door rolled aside just as Gwen was coming back up from the medical bay with a fine white chalk that Bobby thought would do the trick… she grinned broadly when Liz Shaw stepped through the door.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here," she apologized into the tight hug that Gwen gave her; Bobby and Wendy had heard her voice and came up the steps to say their warm hellos as well. "I couldn't get away…"

"You're here now," the Australian said, "and we are very glad to have you." He glanced at Wendy who nodded in agreement. "We've got a real mess here."

Vickie, Mickey and Dafydd, who had been woken by the alarm, joined them, curiously looking at the new comer. As Bobby was making the introductions, Jack and Ianto arrived with breakfast. Everyone stopped working just long enough to eat and fill Liz in on the events of the last few days.

……………………………………………………………………….

"A _fingerprint?"_ Jack asked over their shoulders, as Vickie carefully lifted the tape off the back of the wax seal. The pair of thumb prints she and Gwen had found were perfect.

She displayed the tape to Jack and Liz, who was standing just behind the Captain, with an exultant grin before carefully easing it onto an index card. "Not exactly the way they trained us to do this at the academe, but whatever works, I guess," she turned a warm smile towards both Mickey and Gwen.

"Brilliant, huh?" Gwen said to Jack, beaming.

"It was Vickie's idea to look for prints," said Mickey.

Jack settled his hands on his hips and shook his head. He _never _would have thought to look for a fingerprint.

The former Toronto cop favoured him with a wry grin. "One of the things I learned early on… cultists and weirdos don't tend to think like criminals. They don't usually wear gloves or do a very good job of covering their tracks." She handed the card over to Mickey to scan into his computer. "So when there are real humans involved, they're not always that difficult to track down. If you know where to look. Now all we have to do is hope whoever left those prints has gotten arrested for something and we'll have a name and an address."

"And once we've got a person…" Mickey began.

"We might have a way to fix this," Jack finished the sentence for him.

"In the meantime, I'm asking Coreen to look at the symbols on the front and see if she can come up with anything useful," said Vickie.

"It doesn't seem as if you needed me at all," Liz observed in a dry tone up at the Captain.

Jack gave her a look. He needed her to make it make sense, to help him reconcile the physical with the metaphysical. She was a scientist, a rational person… one of the most rational people he knew.

Gwen was the one who answered, however, assuring her that they could use all the help they could get.

"I've got a hit!" Mickey turned in his chair.

"You're kidding," despite the fact that it had been her idea, Vickie hadn't actually expected it to be that easy.

"Apparently Mr. Mason Bell was arrested for driving drunk last New Year's," he said triumphantly.

"Stupid lucky breaks," Vickie smiled in return, glancing up at Jack.

"Mickey, you're with me. Gwen, you and Bobby hold down the fort and keep working."

"Jack…" Vickie began, giving him a questioning look.

He nodded. "Get your coat." She understood the occult angle better than he did and would be able to spot things he and Mickey would miss.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:**

**HUGE **thank yous for the incredible patience you've given me on this one! As I was skimming the previous chapters, I was flabbergasted and awed all over again at the wonderful response this has gotten. I sincerly hope these last three chapters will live up to expectations.

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**Chapter Thirty One:**

**Success at Last**

* * *

"You're kidding! The Loch Ness Monster is an alien?" Coreen gawked into the video camera on top of her computer monitor. Well… Henry's monitor. He'd told her she could use his apartment, his computer, _and _his library. Whoever this Jack Harkness was, he must be pretty special, not that Coreen could get her boss to tell her _anything_ about him. Henry had never let her at his books before. He didn't even let Vickie plunder his shelves (not that she would necessarily know much, but…)

Liz Shaw flashed a warm smile into the camera atop the computer monitor; she tucked up at Ianto's station. "_Was," _she corrected. "And technically, it was android of sorts, created by the Zygons, to frighten off the tourists."

"That is _so_ incredible! I never thought… I mean… I guess after what happened…" the younger woman faltered a little. After what had happened a few months ago, _everybody_ knew that aliens were a real threat, but she never would have guessed that Nessie was really some alien 'hoax'. Just as long as nobody tried to tell her that vampires were alien, too, however, she would be fine.

"Aliens have been visiting this planet of ours for a long time, my dear," Liz said in a sympathetic tone. "They're not all like the Daleks," she added. "One of my dearest friends is an alien, in fact. You'd probably like him." "Really?"

"Really."

"Would you introduce us?"

"The next time he's on earth, I'll see what I can arrange," she promised.

They'd been working in tandem pouring through books for over an hour and were both in sore need of a few minute's break. Coreen had six old tomes, from both her own and Henry's libraries, laid out in front of her (she could seriously get used to Henry's apartment!); Liz's books mostly electronic, for conveniences' sake. So far the best they'd been able to figure out about the symbols on the wax seal that Vickie, Gwen and Mickey had put back together was what it _wasn't_.

The symbols weren't Latin or Greek or Egyptian or Middle Eastern—all of the usual languages one might have expected. They weren't Celtic, either, that was the first thing Coreen had checked, given that the cultists were working in Wales.

Bobby set down a hot cup of tea at Liz's elbow. "Any luck?" he asked both her and the girl in the monitor.

"Not so far," Coreen told him. "I'm going to pull some more books from Henry's library. There's got to be an answer here somewhere!"

"I'll keep working on it as well," Liz told her. They said their good byes, agreeing to get back in touch in an hour or so. Before signing off, Liz made Coreen promise to get a bite to eat instead of just more coffee. "One can't sustain oneself on coffee alone," she added in a stern, matronly tone.

Coreen agreed.

Bobby chuckled, "Better not let Jack hear you saying that," he told her after the connection was cut.

"Or Ianto," she opined, glancing over in the young Welshman's direction. With nothing else he could do to feel useful, Ianto was busying himself tearing apart and cleaning the coffee maker, a look of intense unhappiness on his face. Dafydd was asleep near by, under Wendy's watchful gaze, while Gwen monitored the rift, clearly feeling less than useful. There was nothing any of them hated more than being so helpless.

Liz leant back in her chair, massaging her temples. With any luck at all, Jack would bring back something they could work with because after reviewing all of the information she'd been presented with so far, she wasn't terribly encouraged.

Bobby seemed to understand the expression on her face. "We'll find something," he said; she could tell by the look his eyes, however, that he didn't really believe that.

She got to her feet. "Come on, let's get some fresh air. I need to think and you don't look like you've been out of this place in days."

"I'm not sure I have."

"Well them," Liz crooked her arm in invitation. "There has to be something staring us right in the face that we've missed. Maybe if we get out of here for a bit, it'll come to us. Wendy…?"

She nodded. "Gwen and I can hold down the fort here. I'll call if anything comes up," she promised.

Ianto glanced briefly in their direction but didn't say anything as Liz and Bobby headed up to the Plass via the 'back door', the 'invisible lift' that would bring them up in front of the Millennium Centre.

…………………………………………………..

"Are those supposed to do that?" Mickey inquired of the black pentacle tattoos on Vickie's wrists; they'd started to glow almost the instant they entered Mason Bell's home.

"Only in the presence of demonic forces," she said in an entirely too nonchalant tone as she pulled the sleeves of her jersey down around her wrists to keep herself from scratching the tingly, itchy demon-marks. "Let's just say I didn't get them from Eternal Ink," she said to the inquisitive looks both men were shooting in her direction. "It's a long story," she added.

Jack and Mickey exchanged glances. Both would take aliens over weird 'demonic presences' any day of the week. _Aliens_ they understood. Aliens made sense.

"Come on," Jack led the way down a darkened inner hallway, his welby drawn, even though there didn't seem to be anybody home at the Bell residence. He almost wished he'd asked Wendy to come along, he could use her sense of smell, but he didn't want to leave Bobby by himself in case the Rift chose this particular moment to spit something out at them—_which would be just our luck,_ he reckoned sourly. If it did, he didn't want Ianto to have to deal with it, he had enough to worry about with Dafydd, and he couldn't let Gwen go back into the field where she might get herself or somebody else killed. It was that last part that needled at him. But he didn't want to lose her any more than he wanted her to quit. He just needed her to be more careful.

The hall, long and narrow, papered in pealing grey wallpaper, ended in a large "L" shaped room that was filled floor to ceiling with books. Jack didn't need Wendy's nose or Vickie's glowing tattoos to tell him they'd found what they were looking for. "Mickey, I want you to clear the rest of the house, make sure no one's home. Vickie…" he gave her a look, but she was already at the bookshelves, searching for something…anything.

He looked around the room…there must literally be thousands of books…

Frustrated by the sheer magnitude of the task, Jack tapped his com and contacted Gwen at the Hub. "Do whatever it takes to track Bell down," he told her after a brief perfunctory greeting. "Get the locals involved if you have to. I want this guy found yesterday."

"Jack!" Vickie called his name. "I need a hand—I think I've got something."

He grabbed the box that she was reaching for before it fell on top of her and carried it over to the desk in the corner. It was made of wood and something about it made Jack's stomach churn uneasily.

"Let me," he said when the former Toronto cop started to open the lid.

She gave him a look, but didn't argue.

Inside the velvet lined box was a long curved knife…

"Hang on," Vickie pulled a couple of items out the inner pocket of her jacket. A quick test confirmed that there were traces of human blood still on the blade. "How much do you want to be the DNA will match that girl you've got in your morgue?"

"I was thinking the same thing. And why exactly are you carrying that kind of field test with you?" he wanted to know.

She gave him a sly smile. "Bobby thought it might come in handy. Can you give me a hand getting those books down?" she nodded towards the shelf where she'd found the box.

"Hey, Boss," Mickey's voice came over the com before Jack could reply. "You might wanna see this."

"Give me five minutes," Jack told him. "Where are you?"

"Kitchen."

Somehow, Jack had the feeling he wasn't going to like whatever it was Mickey wanted him to see…

…………………………………………………………..

Liz's mobile phone rang just as she and Bobby were exiting the pastry shop with a box load of cakes. "Hello—?"

"Liz!" Coreen's voice came over the line. "I've got it!"

"Coreen—?"

"Get back to your computer! _I've got it!"_ she repeated, her tone triumphant.

"Hold on, it'll take about ten minutes."

…………………………………………………………………….


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter Thirty Two:**

**One Chance**

* * *

Dafydd licked his lips as a grim looking Jack Harkness secured the last of the heavy leather straps into place, effectively rendering him helpless. Despite the cool air of the Hub, a few beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He shot his brother a nervous look. Ianto returned it with a tight lipped smile.

Four hours ago, Jack, Mickey and Vickie had returned to the Hub with two boxes full of books and a knife that left everyone who saw it feeling sick. It wasn't just that it had been used to commit one, probably several, murders. There was something about the blade itself…

Two hours ago, Henry had woken up. By that time, a plan had been half-way formulated. He helped them put the last of it together.

None of it made Ianto happy.

Gwen turned so that she wasn't watching, so Dafydd couldn't see her. "Are you sure this is going to work?" she whispered to the former Crown Prince, hoping the younger Jones couldn't hear her any more than he could see her lips moving.

"I don't know," he told her honestly. "Are you a religious woman, Gwen?"

"Well… you know, not really. No more than anybody else, I suppose. Why?"

"Because this would be a very good time to start praying if you are," he advised in entirely too serious a tone.

The statement didn't make Gwen feel any better about what they were going to do to Ianto's brother.

Henry was equally uneasy, but for slightly different reasons. He didn't like magic. He didn't trust it. He knew Jack didn't believe in the things he did, but he suspected that the same basic truths lay at the core of their respective beliefs, that evil was evil, no matter what one chose to call it. He was equally certain that evil was evil no matter where or when in the universe one happened to be.

While he had slept, Coreen found the spell that Mason Bell and his friends had used to summon the lesser infernal spirits that had found their way into the bodie of Anne St. John, Dafydd Jones and their friend Cameron, the one who had stepped out in front of the bus.

Cameron was the weakest of the three; he had killed himself. St. John had been able to resist the pull towards suicide and so they'd killed her, removing and consuming her heart and liver, most likely to consume her strength. Mickey and Jack found evidence of the 'banquet' in Bell's home; although it wasn't as gruesome as some of the other things any of them had ever seen, it left Jack especially unsettled.

"_It brings back bad memories," _he'd said simply when Henry inquired.

Shortly after they returned to the Hub, the police found Bell. Dead. Initial ruling was suicide.

Bell's body was being held for Torchwood at the city morgue; Bobby would collect it in the morning. But Bell's death meant that most of his secrets were lost, all they had were his the books. The knife. _And,_ according to Liz Shaw, they had one chance to free Dafydd. Maybe.

What they didn't know is if they were about to make things worse by trying.

"_According to what Coreen and I have been able to piece together, Dafydd and the other two were intended as human sacrifices to keep something bigger from coming into this world," she'd explained. _

"_They believed they were the good guys," Coreen added via the web cam._

Jack's response to that didn't bear repeating, at least not in anything that even vaguely resembled polite company.

"Yan, if something goes wrong—" Dafydd began, reaching feebly for his brother's hand, despite the restraints.

Ianto knelt and grasped his fingers tight. "Don't talk like that," he said in the firmest tone he could muster. He was sweating, too. If this didn't work, he wasn't sure what they were going to. They could freeze Dafydd, he supposed, put him in the vaults next to Gray…but would that really incapacitate that thing inside him?

"You're going to be fine," he told his brother, even though he wasn't at all sure. _Please, God…_ glancing at the ceiling of the Hub, he wondered if God was really listening any more. If He ever had been.

A cool hand on his shoulder drew his attention. Henry. He looked up at him, noticed the silver cross hanging around the immortal almost-Crown Prince's neck. How odd, that a vampire wore a cross, he thought… he remembered what Henry had said to Tom Maddox.

_You're…_ Tom's fear.

…_.a very religious man… _Henry's answer.

"Being what I am doesn't change my convictions, Ianto," he said gently, as if understanding the tumult of emotions he saw in the Welshman's grey-blue eyes. "I don't believe that humans have a perfect understanding of God—I don't think any of us are meant to. But I do believe that God exists."

He turned his attention towards the younger Jones. "There is no excuse for making deals with Devils, Mr. Jones. You should be grateful you have someone who loves you as much as your brother obviously does. I doubt I would be so kind, were you _my_ family." His tone was cold, meant to frighten sense into the boy rather than as a statement about what he would or wouldn't do in Ianto's place.

Ianto understood the difference; appreciated it. He also knew that if Dafydd survived, there was a very good chance he wouldn't remember any of this.

"Ready?" Ianto asked him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. I love you," he told his brother.

"I love you too." Ianto gave his hand one last squeeze and stepped back next to Wendy.

They both flinched when Jack drew the knife out of its case.

The plan was simple. Use the knife to draw the spirit's attention, bring it to the surface. Make it believe that the sacrifice was going to go through as planned.

Bobby would use a small jolt of electricity to stop his heart, which should, in theory, cause the foreign spirit to leave the body, as it's work was done, the sacrifice was made, Dafydd was dead. Then all Bobby had to do was resuscitate him.

Liz was reasonably certain that the same force field device Torchwood used to hold non-corporeal aliens would work on an inter-dimensional being, which according to her was technically what a demon was. Now all they had to do was cross their fingers…

"Let me," Vickie laid her hand on top of Jack's; she ignored the dark glower Henry shot her way. The marks on her wrists, a parting gift from the first demon she encountered, were burning, itching, telling her that this was her territory, not his.

Harkness nodded, handing over the knife… Vickie ignored the relieved look that flickered across his face. She didn't blame him for not wanting anything to do with any of this.

"Ready?" she turned to Dafydd Jones.

He nodded. Barely.

The others waited, holding their collective breaths… Jack stepped back…when Ianto reached for his hand, he didn't hesitate in taking it. He hadn't been at all sure his partner would want to hold his hand, would want him near…

"This shouldn't hurt. Much," Vickie told Dafydd apologetically, as she undid his shirt.

Just the same, he hissed in pain as the knife bit into his flesh and blood trickled down his breast bone from the shallow cut… the rest of it happened blessedly quickly, at least from Dafydd's prospective…

………………………………………………………….

Jack and Ianto both stood as Ianto's sister and mother entered the hospital waiting room. Alice looked stricken.

"Dafydd's fine," Ianto told her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

Nerys shot him a look; she was clearly willing to go along with the story about an accident on the motorway, but she was just as clearly going to expect an explanation later.

"He doesn't remember much," Ianto added. "The doctors say this kind of amnesia is pretty normal."

"Can I see him?" Alice wanted to know.

"He's sleeping…but…" Ianto glanced at his partner.

Jack nodded. It was probably a good idea to let her see for herself that Dafydd was fine.

"I'll wait here," said Nerys. "He's sleeping, Mam, no need to overwhelm him," she said when her mother gave her an askance look.

"I'll keep you company," Jack offered, knowing just exactly what he was really offering.

Nerys gave him a sharp look. He nodded. Yes, he would tell her everything…well, almost everything. He didn't think Ianto's sister needed to know about vampires…

……………………………………………………………

Henry looked out over the bay; next to him, Liz Shaw was very quiet. It was a comfortable sort of quiet. He was sure that if they'd met when she was younger…

"Are you certain you don't mind taking possession of the 'remains'?" he asked, instead of letting his thoughts finish out that line of imagining. He didn't trust magic, but he trusted technology, alien technology at that, even less. No matter how much Jack assured him that this 'mirror box' of his could keep the spirit contained, he had his doubts.

"Believe it or not, Mr. Fitzroy, I've some experience with this sort of thing," Liz told him.

He smiled. That much he believed. "If you ever need anything, you know where to reach me."

"Likewise."

Henry's smile deepened. "Should we join Jack and Ianto at the hospital, do you think?"

She shook her head. "I think they've got enough to deal with as it is. Family can be a bit overwhelming."

At that, Henry nearly laughed. "You should have met my father."

Liz chuckled and refrained from telling him that if she asked very nicely, she knew a man who could arrange that...


	33. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

**Regrets**

* * *

Ianto and Wendy cleaned up Dafydd's flat, although he would be staying with Alice and Nerys while he convalesced. His girlfriend was still missing, but they were keeping an eye out for her. Jack had given the younger Jones enough retcon to erase the last year from his life, so he barely remembered meeting her, let alone being in love with her. For her part, Nerys was just as glad; apparently she'd never liked Marisol.

Ianto had yet to express his opinion, however. In fact, the Welshman had had very little to say to his partner about much of anything the last few days. Jack had tried to get him to talk, but to no avail…

So when he got into his office on the day Dafydd was scheduled to be released from hospital and saw the plain white envelope sitting neatly squared on his desk, right in front of his chair, he felt as if a cold hand had settled itself over his heart. His name was written on the envelope in handwriting he recognized clearly as his partner's.

It was first thing in the morning and no one else was in yet. That meant that A) he was supposed to read this in private and B) Ianto must have left it there last night.

Jack he played the events previous evening over in his head, wondering if Ianto had dropped any clues, any hints, anything to tell him if he really wanted to see whatever it was that the younger man didn't think he could say aloud. They'd gone out for dinner, just the two of them, that little Italian place. They had planned to go to the cinema, but Ianto made the strategic mistake of putting Jack in charge of checking movie times, so instead they ended up renting _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ and watching it with Jason. After the film, they sent him off to bed before heading up themselves.

Jack smiled as he remembered the hour or so that had followed… it had been a Good Night. There couldn't be anything really wrong.

Could there?

_Only one way to find out._

He picked up the envelope.

The letter inside was handwritten, something Ianto didn't do very often, although he wished he would. He had beautiful handwriting.

.

_Captain Harkness:_

_I don't recall if I have ever thanked you properly for giving me the opportunity to work for you. It has been both an honour and a pleasure to be a part of Torchwood Three, Cardiff. _

_I appreciate the chance you took on me and the faith you placed in me, especially after certain incidents early on in my employment here. I will be forever grateful to you for allowing me to earn back your trust. _

_I would also like to state firmly that this is __not__ a letter of resignation (which if I know you at all is exactly what you've started to assume – possibly even hope for.) To the contrary, Sir, I look forward to many more years of serving under you._

_._

Jack grinned; he knew Ianto well enough to know that he hadn't chosen a phrase like that randomly. _Under me, on top of me, take your pick, Sweetheart,_ he thought in his young Welshman's direction, _I'm looking forward to many more years, too._

But he wouldn't have minded at all if Ianto were quitting. He wished he would. He kept reading.

.

_Recent events have caused me to re-examine my life with a new perspective. I am not certain I like everything I see when I look back on the choices I've made, particularly recently._

_._

Jack felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Most of his partner's recent choices had involved him… if Ianto was rethinking, regretting, him…_them_… he forced himself to continue.

.

_I have devoted nearly every day of the last two and a half years of my life to Torchwood. To you. For the most part, I don't regret that. _

_But there are things I do regret. There are things that I need to sort out in my personal life._

_To that end, I am requesting that you allow me a four week leave of absence from work. I realize I cannot request for an immediate leave, but I hope you will be able to accommodate my request as soon as possible. _

_Please understand that this is not something I would ever ask for lightly and of course I will understand if you are not able to give me this time. If that is the case, I hope that we will be able to come to some other amicable arrangement. _

_I hope that you will already know that no matter what happens at work, I will always love you._

_Yours,_

_Ianto Jones-Harkness_

_._

_Mine,_ Jack mused happily. No matter what else, that one statement was all he cared about. Ianto was his.

He gave himself a few minutes to ponder the rest of the matter before composing his reply.

…………………………………………

Jack found his partner cleaning up the staff kitchen. He recognized it as nervous cleaning and cleared his throat to make his presence known.

Ianto turned to face him. "Have you had time to review my request, Sir?" he didn't meet Jack's gaze.

"I have." Jack handed him the letter, struggling to keep his expression bland. He wasn't as good at that as Ianto was, but he was fairly certain he was pulling it off well enough.

The younger man nodded once and opened the envelope.

.

_Mr. Jones-Harkness,_

_Your letter reminded me that I was unsure if I had ever thanked you properly for your persistence in applying to Torchwood Three, Cardiff._

_It has been a pleasure and an honour to have you as part of my team. I appreciate your diligence, efficiency and superb work ethic. That single incident aside, you have been an exemplary employee and I hope to have you serving under me for many, many years to come._

.

No matter how hard he tried, Ianto couldn't hide his smile. He glanced briefly up at Jack when he heard him chuckling softly, no doubt having guessed what was making him grin.

.

_I am more than happy to give you a four week leave – with pay – as soon as we are able to hire and train at least one new employee. In the interim, I will understand if you need to take some personal time. I'm more than certain we can come to terms that we both find amicable. _

_Yours,_

_J. Harkness_

_._

"Thank you," Ianto said very, very softly. His tone was difficult to interpret.

"All you ever have to do is ask…"

"But I need you to think of the team first, Jack," Ianto cut him off. "I needed you to consider my request for some personal time as my employer, not my husband."

He nodded, accepting that. "Is there anything we need to talk about?" he asked after a moment of what for seemed like very uncertain silence had passed between them.

The younger man leaned against the counter, shoving his hands into his pockets, seeming to consider what he wanted to say. "I meant what is said about looking at my life. It isn't just Torchwood. It's me. My priorities have been messed up for a long time, I just didn't realize it until this thing with Dafydd. I've become as much a stranger to my family as they've become strangers to me. I don't like it."

The Captain nodded to indicate that he was listening, but he didn't interrupt.

"I'm twenty six years old," he went on. "My days are spent chasing aliens, making coffee and cleaning up after the rest of you. I don't mind," he added quickly. "You're done a much better job of paying attention to my life since… since what happened that first year. I appreciate _everything _ you've done for me. But I don't know what a twenty six year old's life is supposed to be, Cariad. I should be at university… or just finishing up, maybe. I should be like Rhys, hanging out at the pub with men who have names like Banana, completely ignorant of aliens. Or vampires," he couldn't seem to help the incredulousness in his tone. "I should be just starting my life, not feeling like it's half over."

Jack might have smiled about the Banana comment if it weren't for that last statement. They all knew what the average lifespan of a Torchwood field agent was.

"Every friend I have is or was a Torchwood employee, Jack. _Everything_ I know revolves around this place. I don't know _anything_ outside of here anymore."

_And I told you to hang onto your life, to make a life for yourself outside of Torchwood,_ Jack thought. He'd even been prepared to let Ianto go if that's what it took… _but that was before…_ Jack found himself rubbing his thumb against the ring on his finger.

Ianto seemed to notice. He took his hands into his and held them tight. "I could never quit, never leave you, but I need to know what I'm missing out there."

Jack nodded.

"I love you," he met the older man's gaze as he twined his fingers into his. "I hope you know that of all the things I've been questioning about my life, _**this**_ is the one thing I've never had second thoughts about."

"Never?"

"Never, Jack. Not ever."

"Not even—?"

"_**Never. **_Being with you makes me feel…whole. Complete. You make my life worth living. I wouldn't throw that way just because of a few unexpected turns in the road. I love you too much. I want us to work. I'm willing to do whatever I have to do to _make_ us work. I just need a little time for myself."

He nodded. He leant in and found his partner's lips with his own, even as the proximity alarm sounded to let them know that someone was coming through the cog door…

"How much do you want to bet that's Gwen?" Jack teased.

Ianto chuckled, "I'd better get the kettle on for her."

"I'll be up in my office. I have a couple of things I need to take care of."

"I'll bring you up a cup of coffee in a few minutes."

Jack smiled. He pressed his lips to Ianto's again and headed to his office…


End file.
